A Walk in the Snow
Queen of the hashbrowns burning,
my body fantasizes in equal parts mountain woman and glamazon,
makes sharp outlines in the canvas that shook angry from the sky.
My footprints are arrows
punctuating a path.
These dreams will find me wherever I stop to rest.
11/22 (an obscured dialog between Mai Li myself and the fire.)
Holing up for the night
This warmth is not squandered
our bodies braced against the cold
long walls of white mean nothing
swirls of snow catching only themselves.
and this is not for my expressing
but the brutality of my fingers and the turning of my incomplete fork.
The words have potholes
and we all know each other well
enough that the spaces left between don't matter
like the difference between breath you can see and the breath you can't
we breathe back and forth in typewriter ticks.
3 skulls are enough to hold it all in
our mouths solder them together with laughter.
It doesn't matter how fast the snow beats down,
the cold is just an idea we've cornered into submission.