I want everything to melt soon, this “forever white”
snow, a new embankment formed from the mountainside
so that no flood waters flow. Pages of white-
lined paper are my only amusement these days
after the sudden avalanche. The winter’s white
light looks bright as summer’s, but it’s bristly cold.
Caught between two hard places, this white
track is too dangerous to go unaccompanied by foot.
Stuck here until it melts, I dream of white
flowers, their intoxicating sweet scents
taking me out of bed, until I see the still white
paths glistening in the sun. Not yet–not yet.
Published in “Looking in, looking out: an international anthology of poetry and short stories” (Willowdown Books: November 2023)