December Neck

The woman across from me

had her collarbone out, the skin

almost blue in the fluorescent.

I caught my own throat in the window's dark glass—

all scarf and shadow, mine hidden.

She shifted. The bone caught light.

I thought about what we choose

to keep close, what we're willing

to let the cold touch.

When she got off, I looked again

at my reflected neck. Still bundled.

Still disappearing.