that I could forget like snow
engraves its residue in footprints.
what death is this that stands there
waiting for us to lunge at him—
like a snowman.
outcast, misspelled, misbelieved—
poor little miscreation.
if palms were only big enough to wipe these tears.
four ticks, two clocks, one tsunami
like all the snow in the world.
and still not enough for thirst
of something more than blood.
like snow white
killed by seven dwarves.
a thousand knotted faces, cluttered in hope,
bound by a prayer of ‘regeneration’,
kneeling before the god of helplessness.
love is a cry of desperation
love was never enough.
image credit: Rachel Harrison