I came to find the snowdrift in your mouth.
The drizzling water from the trees
Freezes midway as it falls
To scatter on the earth.
And in the smoldering shade
Of the December sky
The clouds unleash
Great breaths of desolation.
In your mouth the ice
Has been packed and hardened.
And the kiss I sought for days
Under solemn wood and hidden sun
Has been pushed deep into your throat.
I hold a small light to melt the snow.
I kiss you, though you are not there.
Seth Jani currently resides in Seattle, WA, and is the founder of Seven CirclePress (www.sevencirclepress.com). His own work has appeared throughout the small press in such places as The Foundling Review, The Hamilton Stone Review, and Gravel. His most recent collection, Questions from the Interior, can be read online at www.sethjani.com.