It snows and in my skull are

cotton balls, blurring every streetlight.

Like glitter, falling—the world

is a globe being shaken on its bearings.

I am losing balance again.

Since when was the dark so

dire and soft; silent allure of sweet

snowfall? Under the sheets, shifting.

I am perhaps a body or

nothing at all. What is it to be?

Cotton-filled mind, thick on the tongue,

static and teeth and oh love I

have lost myself somewhere inside

or under your bed.

A walk in the cold, snow cold, skin chilled,

is hardly enough. I need a spinning

of my axis, a resetting of bones into joints.

Scraped up off of the fresh white.

Slipping against the solid ice.

Oh love, I have lost myself again.

i believe i am breaking:

there is a stone

in my chest

and the sky calls it forth

echoing—strangely—

it is the horizon

and i become one

of many suns.

there is a room waiting

for a door, waiting,

with a space inside

for me.

i am calling it forth,

and it becomes me,

and i speak to the clouds in

fiery tongues.

there are words lavished upon me—

i am silent, for fear,

for waiting,

if this is my breaking—