suffused with the outdoor slush
my skin is gray with disuse
and my fingers full of cloud
from where they dragged at my sides.
even the winter fog offers a softness
that clings, though your heart
is as hard as the ground.
these are the days when the color green
is a child playing at house and the sun
is only an Aztec legend.
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands -e.e.
The dredges of winter are here, fully, and I seem to have forgotten that I have a body anymore, or thoughts outside of constantly keeping warm. That’s Midwest living for this Southerner-at-skin-temperature girl.