When I first moved to this city to take a job,
and the snows began to fall, a slow sadness took hold of me.

Someone left a tiny pencil drawing of a sailboat
on the ceiling of my bedroom, and I would stare up at it each night,

thinking that it would eventually stir.
I met someone that first spring, and I didn’t love him.

But I very much wanted someone to look at me
in all my youth and feminine momentum.