Winter Coat
i nurture the cold like a snake-mother.
reptilian skin
with no fur to warm you.
boreal air leaks in through the pin pricks in my body.
i can only shift to rearrange them
so the wind doesn’t hit your goose-flesh neck.
truthfully, i have somewhere to be.
but i can spare a few minutes to sit here.
and willingly i’ll freeze
so that i don’t have to friction a fire in these woods.
snow powdered hares would make for better food,
but i have no desire to catch them.
i’ll paint you a picture of them instead.
January 1, 2020 for Emile Pinet's Winter contest.
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