“Your hands are cold” by Sasha at Black River Farm & Wilderness


Friday April 22, 2016
10:13pm
5 minutes
Scars
James Bay


Frost bite on my pubic bone
Your fingers are birch branches bare
like Winter
Snow bank breasts rise and rise until there’s
no more rising
and then the breath runs faster than a hill
I would break every promise for the sun
I would break every promise for the heat

Every inch is frozen
Your hands the slap of winter but softer
but longer

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“Your hands are cold” by Sasha at Black River Farm & Wilderness