ice pillows

lay your head down like bird feet.
once, we walked for miles in the snow
over the fields where, months later
corn would grow tall as us.
when we stopped to rest
we found a town of ice. 
our reflections blurred & frost bitten.
above, the sky paced 
with a heavy tongue. more & more 
gods coming down. gloves falling
& then teeth. we made a home there.
snow pants legs swishing. a place to sleep
is a place to sleep when the world 
lays dormant & waiting.
i used to be so prepared then.
my hands, two foxes ready to be unfettered.
watching them run. melons rolling
beneath the surface of the daylight.
a stained glass sun. i do not know
how we returned but on the way
i shed a dozen faces. opera masks 
hung from the snow-laden trees.
we sang & in the snow each word 
was devoured. in the backyard again
i discovered you were not there
or you were never there. maybe you were
just a place i slept or 
a wondering corn stalk who wanted to see
how we made our homes in winter. 

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