where snow lives
in the winter of one’s cracking white bones
holding traces of a shivering soul
small crystals biting into the blue fingered ghost
that stays trapped in the chest of a shaking frame
there is a modern remedy for this ancient ache
rip the frozen life from within you with gloved hands
and toss it into the microwave, darling
three, four minutes in the happy heat waves,
megawatts with yellow purpose
and you will be good burning
grinning like a madman at the steaming surface
with snow living in your knees
This poem is about:
My community