Frost Covered Beaches

Wedge fingers beneath the pillow
and I am cold, bristling
wind clangs against the window.
It has snowed when the temperature drops
with each excuse frosting your lips.
We are a tundra, and our hearts
melting icebergs, and we threaten to fall
into an ocean of distance.
I have learned to daydream about the sun
and the beach and our smiles.
When conversations move from sand to glass
to glaciers, I wonder if I need to understand mountains.
The cold has come and all I can do
is bundle myself into my boundaries.
I am discovering a language of snow shoes,
weather reports, and separate room.
I think about building a snowman,
and give it my name, so in your storm
of cold shoulders and short answers
and it could be my substitute.
I will travel for sunflowers
and pluck the petals of the sun.
Maybe I can build us a warm place once.
Maybe I can return us into sandcastles.
Maybe I can learn the language of sand dollars
and siren songs.


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