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Poem: A Wintry Mind 

A Wintry Mind

Here in this bare place, you are, and you are
not. A wintry mind notices the warmth
required to shape you. Nearer to
the melting point, you congeal. Shrinking
in the January thaw, you send
a shiver. Could one reach in, preserve
some part of you, like Shelley’s? In the icebox
you would blend with frost, losing iridescence.
Freezer burned, like one who walks into
a whiteout, seeking you in every flake
that disappears upon the tongue.

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