In the winter, I curl up in bed and time slips past me

In her white evening dress

Voices I remember sound like knocking on the door.

My eyes grow accustomed to the dark.


The world readjusts itself with a groan onto one side,

So my stars become the expanse of my ceiling – sometimes I want to touch

But for some reason, I never do.

Warmth is at my fingertips, and I think of the sea in the summer.


I am disturbed by the sound of an earthquake,

Getting louder and louder under my skin,

I am held together by bone and flesh.

I dream of something in the past, hot soup spooned in my mouth.


The scent of snow melts and maybe the day grows longer.

Mother Nature looks at her face in the mirror and decides,

I am going to dress up today.

She bursts into my room in a frenzied orange and pink dress.

She sings boisterously in my ear until I wake.