For Erryn

Hey! I think you’re beautiful

And brilliant 

And radiant

And resilient

I would like to cover you in kisses please!

I would like to write love poems to you

And dance with you

And watch you smile

Thanks for being you

Something about wintertime . . .

Everyone has heard the "every snowflake is unique" bullshit
I get it
Ice crystalizes
Randomly
I cannot stand to give meaning to the universe constrained by six directions
Constrained by symmetry
I held a snowflake on my glove and took it to an old flame
Said, "Look! Watch the perfection of the sky and what it has wrought!"
But it melted before she turned around

This winter I welcomed the coming of the cold
Excited for the clarity it might bring
The clear air, I decided, would show me each imperfection in perfect focus
I spent days focusing on the smudges I found on my glasses
The pimples on my legs
The hickeys that should have faded from her still tattooed onto my neck
Good thing winter is scarf season.

Excited by the days too cold for snow
Where the air would burn my lungs
The act of breathing made harsh by the simple fact of survival
Each sharp breath dragging down my throat
I relish the pain

In parts of Ontario
(She told me)
They measure the temperature not by degrees but in
Seconds it will take your naked skin
(I still blush when she says naked)
To catch frostbite:
The seconds between the moment that the cold wraps around your delicate fingers
Kisses your pink nose
And takes them in first burning and then
Numbness
She and I know a thing or two about numbness

I went for a run last week
Because I wanted to run away from this feeling and I tried to run so fast I left behind the cold and
Although I know there's more oxygen in the colder, denser air
It was hard to breathe
I didn't notice the cold until I got back inside
And the warm air flowed back into my numb legs
So that they itched in warming up
Turning red and irritated
Too late protesting their brutal treatment in the weak winter daylight.
The irony of this does not escape me.


The winter sunlight and I agree about the general shape of things:
We shine together on the snow
Bringing light into the world in a prismatic rainbow of
Color. We shine the sky a color of blue so bright it looks like it's glowing with its own light
We're so bright you can hardly stand to look.
But step out in the cold and we'll take breath away
Without warming the lonely earth
We bring to heat, just blinding light.
Perhaps it's better that way.

This one is dark

I'm doing much better than this poem would lead you to believe. It's a mark of my healing that I'm even able to articulate these feelings. Still, it's not a happy poem.

A Spell for Survival

The sun will rise tomorrow morning, despite your best efforts

You know this as you lay awake in a cold and empty bed

Watching the neon lines on the clock mock you

3:33

Witching hour.

The house moans and it’s not so much the sounds that are unfamiliar

But the silence

The absence of another person breathing

The bed is so cold.

You’ve run through your meditation exercises three times though

You never thought about how easily sleep came

When you slept next to him.

You miss it, the way you miss the ease of breathing when you have a cold.

The darkness isn’t getting lighter (not yet, at any rate)

And the bed is so cold

But your eyes are growing accustomed to the dark

The same way your heart grows accustomed to feeling like there’s a gaping hole inside of it.

Your thoughts happen faster than you think they do in the daytime

Oh god I’m so lonely

The bed is so cold without him

And the distance between you and him seems farther even then a continent

This poem should end with the sweet relief of sleep

Or the fiery declaration of independent, fiery enough to warm your bed without him

Or the hopeful tune of birdsong

On this night none of these things spare you the dark long night

But the sun comes up, despite your best effort.

written in the car on 1/2 driving to the airport

My lips are raw from rubbing against yours

I drink your profile in

Glowing against the street lights 

Not the white dress you wanted

But

Contrary to the sweet words I breathed into your ears moments ago 

Nobody is perfect