December 17, 2019

• pristine

  pristine.
  still falling.
  spread over the dirty world,
  like immaculate ignorance.

  finest flakes
  blowing like dandelion seeds
  or arranged on the balcony,
  lace for the hem of an old-fashioned dress.

  ultimately, i will have
  to hold all
  the conversation
  with myself

  no one could possibly get through to here,
  even with state of the art snowshoes.
  i am alone on an undiscovered continent

  my world is
  like a love waiting
  to be discovered.

  the snow shovel itself
  is finally invisible, completely buried
  and i am weak in my bones.

  but no one will know.
  i am the only person
  in this vast white room

  • 5:33 am
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