smelt summer into a heart-shaped mold and call it love
that cracks at the first hint of frost. winter has wrapped
a thread around my spine and when i press my fingers against
the glass, webs of ice flicker through, until i can break
everything in the room just by breathing–staggered breath
that comes like a deathbed canticle in december. you think
the thaw will save you. but you will only drown.