Spirit Photo You say words like solstice, equinox, question the numb-hush of salted boots against the tile, of peppermints in your teeth. I am seedburied, your cold cold girl in a (sub) zero state, a slip-gloved siren whistling beneath a jagged hole in the ice. I tell you our circadian rhythms slide away under the ebbing sun, that the Latin root of February means "to clean." Here, mercury scabs develop over frostbit film. © Susan Slaviero Susan Slaviero is the author of two poetry chapbooks: An Introduction to the Archetypes (Shadowbox Press, 2008) and Apocrypha (Dancing Girl Press, 2009). Her work has appeared recently in RHINO, Flyway, Blood Orange Review, Melusine and others. She designs and co-edits the online lit zine, blossombones.