poetry

buying cold

buying cold

she tells me doubtfully
it’s pretty dark
it’s back in the trees
that area holds onto snow

I grin

she suggests a different place
now this place over here –
this one’s sunny and bright
dry (but windy)
it melts out a lot earlier

I explain patiently
we’re looking for a little refrigerator
where we can escape the Plains
cold and wet is what we want

a place where all the PurpleAir disks glow green
where snow is measured in feet
where water sits right below the surface
ready to douse a spark

where the aspen are plump with sap
and the spring’s gushing never slows
a place to counter glare and ash and salmon skies
numb to the mercury’s fever

poetry

headcold fog

headcold fog

red light
dripping nose
no connections
sleep-starved
to bed