Snow-Globe

Fingernails tap,

thumbing a silent attack.

The city sits, oblivious. I force

my eye against the wall, searching

 for a blink behind a window, a squeal

of traffic, but it is stagnant. Too heavy

to shake, flakes of paper wait like dregs

of tea, a channel of ashes surrounding

the ghostly town. If her voice fought

back, I would not hear through

the dense fog that covers

this frozen glass.