The North

mom built her home

just north of the sun,

where the snow falls fast

in star-filled dusk.

her home has rooms

for generations of memory,

with an unfinished basement,

laden with toys.

here in this world

you can stand in the mist

but never get wet.

the droplets evaporate

at the touch of your skin,

and the sun never burns,

only warms,

like an embrace.

and here in the north,

where all my life

is buried

only 3 feet deep,

animals unearth snippets

of a universe

started 20 years late.

and here in the north

all my dreams are nightmares,

waking up

in a cold sweat

at 4 in the morning

to an endless twilight.

and here,

north of the sun,

the snow melts early.

day by day,

we can't breathe

and no one remembers

any different.