snow melting, a grayscale
reduction to green, a drip
drop a stream sputtering a (seasonal)
war’s last bombshells.
ice shattering like teacups
against a wall, she picked
up a fragment to remember
where winter is real a
long, fat torpedo of ice
put in her pocket.
She came home to me melting,
the middle of school longing to
be mine & slipping love notes
into her pockets without eye contact
the folded sailboats float,
skimming over the ice
my latest invasion of space, the sailboats paper bouquets
slowly unzipping, memories
discharged; you brushing your teeth,
orange slice shadows—the half moons
glowing peeled &
I threw them away before you were
ready, so now you collect
a stream in your pocket, as not to forget
winter, oranges, & the moon.
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