Spirit Photo by Susan Slaviero
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 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.
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 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.
