Trains don’t collide but intersect

when / where she stopped leaving early
and I stopped not working.

Work? Left me without stories.

It’s not amnesia but condominium life,
lights fluorescing off stage,

desert sky with half the stars.
My God, it’s full of snow!

When one is 1 plus the product
of all lesser primes,

where to hide but the imaginary line?

– Kenton K. Yee

Author’s Note: Recently, I’ve been thinking about poetry in revision. One way this poem can be read is as an ars poetica. “Snow Condominium” views a poem as a condominium of snow that’s being reimagined and restructured.