firebug435

snow angels
2002-11-04 17:23:40 (UTC)

winter

it's in the way that you see your breath
crystallize on the first cold night
of winter, and how
you remember pretending to smoke, little girl
exhaling cold steam in broad spouts
now you recognize the burning of frozen
air deep in your lungs
like menthol cigarettes
smoke so thick and pervasive but you can't touch it
only hold it deep inside of you
until you're about to explode and then
you exhale.

it's in the way it gets inside you
this frigid frozen chilling loving season
and it makes you ffeel alive and lived in
because nothing can be so
beautiful
and flow so thickly in your veins
not words not music not love, nothing which
can be created and especially nothing which
other people can touch
a field of soft white cotton, wirgin
getting deeper every half second.

it's in the way that you still
throw back your head to catch fat flakes
that taste like heaven because they meltsofast
you never know if you tasted them
at all.
the smell of it so close to home it takes you
back no matter how far you've come,
throws you into uncomfortable spaces
between words that fit exactly where they are
as if to frustrate you but yet
you love it all, feel safe
ensconced in heavy quilts with history if you
care to know it, to listen while watching
frost etch patterns on glass which
with your words you try to
mimic.




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