The Snow

by Caitlin Munn

bitten lips and  

chaste white crystal -

dust around my mouth and

my neck is bound by

thorn, rose; the clock froze

in my cracked globe of frenzied

white.

silvery trail from my nose

scraped together with plastic.

thaw me, wring me out.

a ring of roses forces me down with

no thought, no remorse.

remind myself once, twice, thrice,

it’s not a race - the pony is tired;

flogged static, seeks sorry

or a white flag or a clean slate.

shivering is my mind

moored to a magpie

– flat in the snow I lie.

bitten lips and

virgin frostbite, feasting on a circus of devotion,

drought of the heart left barely beating

so cold, now sold

to the highest bidder.

a penny for pretty, a penny for pity –

I am left with just the silhouette of a white-washed city.

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