a walk with January
Posted January 5th, 2017 by Lena
in the stars
when I shiver, the very air shivers with me, and
someplace in my chest I know the world, today, is chilled to the bone.
the frost stretches greedy fingers deep into the earth and
strips even fire of its warmth.
yet, there she stands,
naked in the streets, naked in the snow.
fresh-faced and smiling with her arms open to the wind.
she is new against gray, and she takes and she takes,
but leaves discovery and
in her wake.
“buck up, buttercup,” she says.
“it takes seven years for all the skin cells on your body to regrow.”
she kisses the tip of my nose and whispers,
“that means five years until a body none of them touched.”
then off she runs, blowing away in the swirling of snow,
and when I glance down at the ice-glass
frozen into the asphalt where she stood,
I wonder what shade of Lena she has
teased out of me this time.
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