* * *
Do you have stars
in your mouth?
she asks
and I laugh,
she’s never tasted
winter like I have,
midnights that linger
for days. Yes,
I tell her. Come see.
Will there be breath?
For a while, I whisper
and blow on her hands,
but you will sing
and the aurora lights
will walk across the ice.
She lets me
put my hands on her.
Will I die? her hair
like snow.
Yes. I tell her.
Every time.