Winter Walk, Warming

Winter Walk, Warming

Winter Walk, Warming 801 699 Sarah Priscus

Every breath is burning, every breath is yours.
Lean against the gas station ice-box, with the penguins on the side –
I’ll sleep in snow-drifts until the morning light pours.

Sometimes gap-toothed boys look for girls they can gore,
sick with caffeine, making them promise their soft-shelled pride:
“Every breath is burning, every breath is yours.”

No small task, no hummingbird wing, just remembering being heartsore.
But you don’t aim for conquest or take me as your black-eyed war bride.
I’ll sleep in snow-drifts until the morning light pours.

Forget the blood spilled in the white linoleum drugstore –
think about walking trails and beg me to be your honey guide.
Every breath is burning, every breath is yours.

Blisters bloom on my soles in clusters of threes and fours.
Push through the winter brush anyway. Let’s kick the branches aside.
I’ll sleep in snow-drifts until the morning light pours.

Back to the ice-box, where seraphim build babies under sycamores.
You’ll brush a finger against my frozen eyelid and force me to liquify.
Every breath is burning, every breath is yours.
I’ll sleep in snow-drifts until the morning light pours.

Header photograph Β© Marybeth Cohowicz DeYoung.

Share This: