this was the season we’ll look back upon
and say, “something just never felt quite right,”
likely placing blame upon the easy culprits:
global warming and shocks of skin, scarfless and exposed,
our Winter throats pale as apple flesh
against a thinning sky,
against inclement eyes

so we went ahead and fell when the snow refused to,
shooting down such a warm December like an injured dove
a Wendy-bird
a child’s paper love,
feverish hands buried deep in pockets
where our secrets thawed and ached
& when  you said “i could get used to this” and promptly lost your gloves,
i prayed for snow and knew
we’d already frozen over.

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