Frosted stanzas
crunch under snow boots...

We are led by your star
raising glory above...

I hid under a reverberating seashell
while you scratched your defected fists...

I never knew you were
so close to leaving...

Vestigial wings
grant me the joy...

I needed a smile
of confidence...

You loom in the avenues of a dream where I...
somnolent under reputable bells, waiting for light...

This inferior surface is how I am compared
an impeccable portrait on display...

I am bold and may not have the courage
to fight a war or protest with action...

The waxed, cleanly shaven sun
tied fables around the mountain dune...

My thumb bled over the envelope
as I had already ripped the seal...

You wrote me an ekphrasis
reflecting upon my fingers...