We should have remained in our snowball, me,

half-frozen, ice-blue lips, clinging to you like

water.

 

And you, red-haired, blue-eyed, who thawed (somehow)

as the layers of snow and dirt piled around us all

year.

 

Now you expand towards the sky. When you dance

on the ground, I feel the roots of your feet (like flowers)

below.

 

Remember, darling, it’s only temporary. Soon you’ll see

what I made while you were away, a snow globe, an ice

sculpture.

 

Do not look at me the way you did. You wanted to eat

those pomegranate seeds; you saw that they were red like

love.

 

Do not flinch from my touch the way you did. You grew

to sit on your throne, to caress the souls as they flew

away.

 

Oh, do not shiver as you did. I have built you a castle of ice

so you can dance as you do above, heat wrapping around your

being.

 

I know that you cannot help but see me through the

glaze of your sleep, while the wind mourns its way to

winter.

 

But do not think of that now. Come, love, return to

our snowball, where we’ll find our own warmth in all this

death.

---

Joanna Cleary is currently attending the University of Waterloo. Her poem, A Coin Toss, is scheduled to appear in the September/October 2015 edition of Cicada Magazine. When she is not writing, she can be found reading, eating various forms of chocolate and, of course, thinking about writing.