Green Shoots Unseen

 

AH such keen thrill

to this cold,

this ice in my bones

I run through the house naked

a flying queen in snow cloak

to stand skin first

pressed against fire

I squeal with

life biting

it

sucks me closer….

Like old love

yesterday moments that should remain buried

but are not quite dead

and bitterness that masks rusty pain

that masks desire

that masks yearning

love of self…

a winter growth, green shoots, un seen.

BUT for now I lay him underneath the coals

and raise my arms in supplication

to my god

of fire, skin and soul