I wanted to be electricity,
but I became snow instead.
No medium of communication,
a medium of coruscation.
I lie bright, unblinking in the sun,
blissfully unaware I have reduced
the landscape to nothing. Concealed
beneath me, it’s gone, I’m all there is.
I’d like to phone you, to tell you
all about it, but the wires frosted,
accumulated ice and are down.
I would set a bird’s wings in flight
with a message to you, but they
are too busy avoiding me. I might
not regret my decision to be snow,
but I am beginning to question
the value of anything but snow.
There is no more or less. I am seamless,
blank, constantly erased by the wind.
Please write our names together
in me, perhaps a heart with an arrow
through it, a promise of love eternal.
Some may say it won’t last, but I say
if it’s written in snow, it’s forever.