that's mrs. mediocrity to you

snow crunches and gives me away
as i stalk the howl of this january moon
a barefoot shivering gypsy
in a white gown meant for summer
snapping in the pearlesque breeze

the seasons have forgotten
how to be themselves

your forest is home
to a bird i cannot name

but i am not afraid
to stand here in the dark

not afraid to burrow under trees
and tunnel through silvery shadow

i already have my own scars
glinting white in the light
of fullness

when my back is turned
you trace them with your cold
clay shiver fingers
while i hold my breath
and play spectral

i know how much
you need
this map

.

..

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Linking up today with the fabulous dVerse poets for Open Link Night