snow in march

i'm worried it will
snow so much that there will
be nothing left of the sky
when it's done--

what would hang above us?

i'm laying on the bottom
of your wooden bunk bed
in the dark

this is another poem
about snow

when i was younger
& watching a movie
with my mom told me
that snow always 
symbolizes death--

whose death am i 
making foot prints in?

whose ceiling's 
painted-clouds
have come alive & decided
to be a blizzard?

my bedroom at my parent's
house is decorated
like a rain forest--

what about snow in
the rain forest?

are we that far gone?

flakes melting
on the backs of leopards--
tree frogs frozen on
their branches like
iridescent ice cubes--

we used to play in
the snow for hours 
Billy & i--

that was back when 
we had snow pants--

mine were green &
his were blue--

we'd come inside
& set our wet gloves
on the radiator
while sitting at the 
kitchen table--

eating marshmallows
instead of dipping them in our
hot coco--

what death did the snow
mean back then?

was it our own--

making snowmen 
& igloo & grave stones--

when everything melts
in the winter
does death take on
new bodies?

maybe the purple 
crocuses--

i've always found them too
good to be true--

that or the daffodils
with their flippant 
open mouths--

& here is
all this sky in the backyard--

i keep thinking
that maybe good will
have to pull a bed sheet
over the heavens--

bunchy edges wrinkling
at the corners
of the horizon--

i go out into
the snow & i think
about how much i miss you

& how i hope whatever
death is coming down so
heavy doesn't have to
do with us--

i want to park 
my car on your side street
& look up at the apartment 
windows trying to
guess which one is yours--

standing knee-deep 

i grab snow with 
my glove-less hands 

in an attempt
to piece back
together a corner of
the atmosphere--

it's good packing snow
at the very least--

not the powdery snow
that comes when the 
earth is in a more
dire state of mourning--

if nothing else we'll have
this patch when the sky
finally stops ridding
itself of a body--

this little wisp of heaven--

will you lay under it
with me?

this is my bottom bunk 
of the rain forest--

let's feel small
& pick daffodils