Seasonal Love


She left marks in sand and snow.

The earth’s residue was her mattress.

She slept with seasons.


He baked in the summer

and marked his arms with fingertips.


White rubbed-trails went up his arms

like a radius-linked-humerus. She

confused his trail for her sheets. He

confused her for a snow angel.


Her hair was layered with each season:

her ends were split, crisp;

her strands were damp, dirt-patterned;

her crown was bright, burnt.

She approached his mattress

like a snow bank or patch of leaves.


She sprawled herself across his bed,

arched her back, arms and abdomen flexed.

She now was his bed sheet angel.


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