Right now, we are enduring
a period of cold
stratification, as we must.
Let the sun droop low.
Let the snow
melt, crust, pile
up, and melt again,
tumbling over
the husks of our bodies.
Let the temperature drop.
Let the starlings flock
to peck at the detritus
that engulfs
us, burying us over
and over again.
Only this long
freeze can soften
our shells. Only this dark
washing and rinsing
of our skin can bring
us to bloom.
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