We weren’t afraid. The stars were plump as berries
and the furs were warm. We lit a fire,
the way cab drivers keep their heaters on
waiting at night, outside the station.
We lay back on the ice and watched the lights,
the sky-dancers, looping in green and purple
the way city lights reflect in puddles,
the way shop windows break reflections.
Deep down, the ice holds the colour of the sky,
and overhead the clouds reflect the snow
and the moonlight on rooftops
almost looks like frost.
Since then we’ve travelled through a world of
white. We’ve become bears, blood hungry.
Trains pulling into stations, crowds
and the sound of people, empty as the wind.
I’m hosting at dVerse tonight, and we’re being inspired by titles.