∴ wisting snow-wanderer
whip-bent in the cold, the truth
wrapped in helix sunlight—
gale’s fingers pull at the hearth-throat
igniting my fire-tear spine
dripping swete
by her eunoia ambrosial mead
withered sun-chaser
bramble-drummer in brittle soil
you carry the weight of the twist-tree
the old ember-tale of
shimmer-fingers breaking the gaze—
pushing through this gelid winter’s squall ∴
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