i cried a waterless whisper for
new things that grow in cold places
and the weeds that wander in between.
the snow is a fog that consumes.
it is a silent crawl of loneliness
that pinches out every fire.
i only miss you in the night
because the day is so far away
and only these memories can warm.
but as the sky grows darker
and out tumbles its riot
of frozen tears and turmoil,
i will place a hand to the sky,
let the snowflakes pelt my skin,
and feel every burn turn me pink.
YOU ARE READING
potency
Poetrycan you hear them? every step aching toward us? : the here and now poems
