Tuesday, December 20, 2011

winter witchings

we watch dark from behind your window, a pane of ice
(be still)
our long hands reach for your love light
(be still)
warm red heart, your mouth is a tart
you're forgetting our language
we left it on your lips
your breath becomes white fog flowers
peering out trying
to discern shapes from a forever expanse
of snow

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