still, ripe, her image – her oceanic nostrils never to flare;
what gets me is when she is worn out with snow white darkness;
veins cradling inside - biting frost- inside purity, inside self;
far, far less than the columns of snowfalls - (swim).
safe – before - so what – (it)gets wide - to a full stop;
the holes in the sky – holding up her memory;
every pulse is her power, in space of earthly waters;
it’s her caring soul (a bump) given, wings of assertion;
i never knew - how her life filled the invisible edges of squares.
yet her life, as a woman - is clear as snow white printed on paper.
copyright 2010
