I feel calmer now,
eerily peaceful,
as if I decided to
spore something
in the agar of this
petri dish.

I think it was the
snow this evening.
Something about
the way it freckled
across a dark sky
had me reminiscing
strep in 2nd grade.

My throat was buried
by a blizzard,
voice frozen six feet
under the saliva of a
frostbitten tongue.

I think that’s when I
realized I had to endure
the cold if I wanted to
survive it.

Ah, yes, the 2nd grade.
Those were eerily
peaceful moments, too.

– B.

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