another month
where you could drink the sky

our lungs are oceans now

marionets
whose every shipwrecked breath
sees them ceding another step
in their tug of war
with a peek-a-boo moon

another month of dancing barefoot
through the fires
black and white
of a Friesian’s fractal mind

screaming
as it teeters through sleep
undreaming
young, free and doomed

another month of phantom canopies
weeping
hoarfrost blossoms

to choke the lonely sound
of snowdrops tolling slow
always counting down
toward a whispered dusk

toward another open wound

another month of twilight

always twilight

when a mother loses
her last stand
against the child
eating its way
out of her womb

hush now winter,
hush now,

spring will be here soon.