Fair and Frozen World
by Meg Smith
Let’s run to the field
of blue and white,
where they mark the skyline —
snowfolk, ruling the horizon with
raised arms, denuded twigs.
To come here is to fall to them,
naked, fingers falling through the frost.
We will laugh, and taste every snowflake,
until fever steals our sleep.
Our sleep will catch us,
under the shadow of those doleful faces
in tears of coal.
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