For Mom

Warmly flustered Mnemosyne

on the turning of an Age

Snowflakes like

Snowflakes like

her Gloves falling to the ground

Like her Knees

Like her kneeling

There is, After all

a Place for us

We are a concoction of our

divulged/inadvertent childhoods

a recollection pastiche of our

orbited childrenhood

we are, after all

only children growing old

I prayed for (you and you) came

she said in snow, draw your wings

arm yourself, suit-up for battle

And he said stop crying

stop snowing after all

if nothing else, I’m here now

And if for fabric the snow

if for fabric this blanket

if by way of warmth we

grow older to the storm

to the center of the heart

we are after all, only snowing

Then the Breath

then the breathing

then the heave and halt of breath

the weaving heart of breath

the center of the heart of breath is after all

only briefly steaming heat

The lift and heart of heat

the warmly unfolding sudden heat

the weave and scent of hot

unsounded warmth, the private shiver

the bountiful heated unsounded shake after all

only naturally accustomed to the waif

And the empty silent heat

the bellows the monastery

the stainglassed forever hot

threshold of childrenhood

the something girlish place is after all

only nothing to be feared

And I am here with you now

aren’t I, warmly wetting snow

divergent picturesque I am

soon be spring we are

after all only unsprung

Winter-heated