Every Time



Do you have stars

in your mouth?

she asks

and I laugh,

she’s never tasted

winter like I have,

midnights that linger

for days. Yes,

I tell her. Come see.



Will there be breath?

For a while, I whisper

and blow on her hands,

but you will sing

and the aurora lights

will walk across the ice.



She lets me

put my hands on her.

Will I die? her hair

like snow.

Yes. I tell her.

Every time.



Jude Goodwin