seasonal affect

Karen Cheung

it’s still dark when the shard of crescent moon exiles you from your dreams baring its teeth beneath the punctured night you set out for the lake the sky a blue-black bruise of hurt overstayed every winter spells shudders & you tell yourself this time the season would lose its hold except you had left home for love and that love has left you (no matter) too much sun and you wither you prefer shadows that tolerate you forging fog into a white gown since discarded the prey moves slow: they think they are safe under the snow. ghost girl gone // nurse your art between the glass of ice hold still in the sedated air (at least you have your art) then suddenly the sky cleaves open at the horizon through the slit day spills the light you left behind catching your breath warm as fresh bread winter choking to be tender again