Tell me the snow keeps you warm
When you cut it in lines
On the coffee table
And the streetlamp outside your window
Spills light like milk across your apartment floor
When we drink pink wine from the bottle
Kneeling on our hands
On our knees
And when they come up black from the ash
Of a dozen half-smoked cigarettes

Tell me the snow keeps you warm
Like an open oven
Preheated to 450 degrees
When we drag your mattress into the kitchen
To stay close to the heat
And your body is slick with sweat
Tell me then when you’re up against me
How it isn’t selfish to love the winter
Even though it makes our mothers cry

Tell me the snow keeps you warm
And that you still know how to control it
Tell me that and I’ll stay
Even after you’ve passed out
I’ll lie next to you on the mattress in the kitchen
And listen to the sound
Of little mice feet
Running across the countertops
Above our heads

Rachel Greer is a third-year MFA creative writing student at Wichita State University. She is 24 years old and enjoys scuba diving, kickboxing, and hiking in her free time. Her favorite poets are Sylvia Plath and Ocean Vuong.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Snow

  1. . says:

    The frogs warm me
    Like coals in my bed
    Talking tales of times
    Longing since past

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