Trigger Warning
Your hand
on my shoulder
cracks like ice
underfoot,
like a glacier
calved by ocean.
Farewells shake
and howl like
north wind
or sink into
silent deeps
like boots in snow.
As you bend to
kiss me,
your face hollows
like the cave
where you’re
already hibernating.
I look up at you
one last time
great man of winter.
Your face is
white and almost blank.
but for a few dotted places
where the eyes,
the mouth, the nose,
should be.
You’re nothing
but a map of
where you’re going to.