goodmorning naked body. taut watery skin smudged against my face.
you smell like trees salted and soaked in winter.
(pitch black limbs curving across the pale sky, dripping
sweet ale into patterns on the snow, which children bundled in plastic
and cotton packed into stone, will seek out and decipher.
while old women, knee deep in furs watch mindfully from behind their ancient glass.
language of the forest gods, they will mutter, breath fogging windows and swallowing their old wiry mouths, before turning into the muddy darkness of their homes and disappearing forever)
strands of sunlight dressed up in frost, tumble drunk into the room and drape over your shoulders. i leave a trail of fingerprints across your collar bone.