the white crystal flakes were wanted more than a sheath of brightness
for in her coeur only a tattered wormhole burrowed
for how could the mythic mists of prehistory be more settled than these insane swirls kept in little jeweled lockets.

our gullets sore from holding swallows or being afraid they'd be our last breaths
whence greyness was only nuisance in the timelessness of our function today the chunky rains and jagged ice easily pour a refrain
we may pounce the careless jackrabbit dance in a flooded desert.

she's let her eyelashes paste together in a mix of salt crystals and oversleep
with least a care for all that plagued her prior
but a palm-full of dream-dust blown over her girl and boy
she falls back onto the sand and allows the snow to embalm her frailty.