March 5, 2010


On a night when the moon
is so bright, the crisp shadows
darken the ice, once snow. Where
now the cold aligns the crystals,
snowflakes no longer romantic
but mineral hardness freezing
the hairs on my lips from smoke
escaping the mouth. I bring
my numbing hand up, for warmth.
This kiss reminds me of your
soft, frigid touch.