The chill arrives even with you.
I thought here I’d be safe, but still
the snows come thick as clay
where shivery, I wake—
the sweep of my spine
stiffening, pale along the weight
of these girlish knees;
you scale with naked hands.
We curl in the sheets, embryonic.
my nose a nub of ice, dead
but for breath that betrays me.
Raising my hands to your mouth,
you kiss each knuckle
one by one
bringing each finger to life
as the red pulse loosens
from where it was held
like a cough or a loving word.
Still the snow whitens the world.