Specific Species of Special Considerations

My sentences are sprinkled

with snowy asterisks.

So many cold specific species

of special considerations.

Compounding the temerity of

this informational vacation

through the paradise of lingua franca

*commonality hell*

A virga, purple and inconsistent.

My tongue,

dry,

cracking,

goes on.

In the meadow between my

thoughts and their definitions

snowstorm as crepuscular ballet.

Tinfoil Moon

My tinfoil moon is so cheap

and glitters prolifically,

unlike the gold sun jailed

in the center of the solar system,

mined to death for its light,

wasted resource above the

bickering buildings with their

fluorescent innards.

Perhaps my dearest half will tear just the

littlest piece of my moon

to fashion me a fashionable ring.

No one loves the crinkled moon as I do,

The glitz and glam of being second best.

Aurora

I work to the tune of your aurora.

The floor wears away imperceptibly

as a woman whose dreams have

been munched by the wolf in her words.

The tundra of my inexperience thaws.

On the know-it-all breeze,

laughter that grips my heart

like a hand.

When the pollen heard you weep,

you were sainted by the grass.

Your greens, your purples.

Your lilting light that

whips through my space

like remorse.

Your song is dangerous,

damaging.