The winter was unkind
Yet you loved it
So much,
It was your gauche friend,
Reclusive in its blankness,
Complicit with its demands for
Many layers,
As snow is complicit in murder –
Snuggling coldly into

And I remember the simpering
That night,
As it squeaked into the
Room like 
Lab rats bred for death.
I remember the slip
Of your body on the sheets
And your
Speech bubble breath
Spearmint ellipses,
Your teeth white
Your eyeballs white
Your watch-face white
The witch behind you
Whispering the content
Of her
Turkish delight
And sculpting you
For her museum.

(Nothing ever really warmed you up.
How I hated that winter.)

I put the heating on and
Showed you the
Wedding dress –
An antique affair
That had been passed down.
My sister did not want it,
As she is not at all romantic.

When I got back from
The bathroom
You were out of bed,
Holding the dress against yourself,
Stuck in the mirror,
Head turned,
Absolutely lost –
A tiny bride
White as a
Snow tongued branch
And just as still,
Waiting for the wind
Or the clouds
Or some kind of joy
To move you.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s