in a silent way in the morning
her breath was like dew
weightless in the air
just on the edge of visibility
charged with meaning

there were crushed flowers in her hair
and there was something strangely beautiful
around the corners of her mouth

her dreams were full of children
with bones protruding from their feet
they had children of their own
who smiled in a way that made her think
maybe they knew what love was

"each line you carve into the ice
is a memory,"
she said
"written in a language
no one else can understand"

i licked the sugar off of her nose
and fell back
into the humid womb of sleep
what's it to you?
who go