Winter is here

and I ache with it.

My chest shrivels

up like all the dead

things buried in the ground,

or under a thin layer of ivory

setting powder. My body

slumbers in an icicle



The flurries gust,

shaking my thoughts 

snow globe style til I am as topsy

turvy as the recycling bin, blown

across the street and as stuck

as a Mini-Cooper in 4 inches

of snow-plow slush. The last few

leaves may fall off the trees in addition

to my toes, hanging on the branch

of my leg in cold, cold for too long.


Upis beetles freeze

in the negatives, creating 

a statue of their own innards.

Wood frogs supplement sugar

to survive cryogenics, but they hop

crawl to life in the spring-

just as the ice in my hair melts

into soggy tracks down my face

and evaporates.


Katelynn Paluch

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