nocturnal snowstorm
it’s a late night stroll in mid-december.
in cold air, the silence trembles
before an avalanche of noise
thick sheets of ice stack up quickly,
forming miniature valleys all around me
the light dims,
the sky goes black.
with each breath,
the cold air scalds my lungs.
it claws against my skin
until my face begins to burn red.
somehow –
i spot your
blue letterbox
from the driveway
that’s funny,
i don’t remember crossing the fence.
snow gathers on my eyelashes
i keep blinking.
but it won’t fall off.
badum, badum
now im knocking on your door
no response… that’s fine
i’ll just try again
take a deep breath
i wipe the ring on your door
the taste of iron melts across my tongue
the snow won’t fall off.
badum, badum
look around, pause
nothing.
looks like you still won’t let me in
23rd july 2026.
