THE ENTERING SPACE
Leavening the cold weather
and the sorrow your mother causes you
like a blue snowman we let grow to ice.
Punch it now, won't you?
Someone wrote their name in the snow
and I kicked at it until
my legs were covered with white confetti,
their name written over me.
I was out of control
and you were standing next to me incubating rage
so there wasn't a minute in which I could distinguish
myself from you.
I meant this as the most sincere of
all my lies.
TYPO
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