Day 9


slip on ice thin innocence for the first time.
curl and uncurl numb toes for the hundredth time.

the air I breathe drifts out of me in question marks
others chance through and turn to answer.

while the ground under rebuffs in crackles

              “not for you”.

coatwrapped scarftouched hathugged me holds still,
tries to hide in my lungs

my toes nod in agreement but nobody sees.
my fingers quietly sulk in their mitts.
i am aware of reddening cheeks. 


settling between us:
a forest of icicles
singing clarity.

Posted by:jasmine

Jasmine is an editor, poet, and community arts organizer. She comes to poetry by way of Chinese music. This blog is a mapping of ways.

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