the quickmelting rime
drips from my fingers
carving such slippery trails
over the frozen bone page

my mouth is filled with pollen
and coming crimes of spring
turn to honey on my tongue
that i must swallow like daybreak

fill these symbols i have etched
into my ulna, scapula, sternum
and remind me

in the throes of a mismanaged youth
when dreams were born
fully-formed and running

though all my ambitions
turn to tornadoes and summer storms
we have been
the greatest

02/19/2008

Author's Note: meow

Posted on 02/19/2008
Copyright © 2026 Peter Hsu