Asked to give it a name, I become a nest abandoned
after flight. Berries blue my hands, all stain
and no sustenance. Winter in my teeth we burn
to stay warm, chasing every season before
its time. A dance on tepid stems, bones brushed
alabaster against tempered gray haze. A dance
for each time I bit my tongue bloody to remain
unbothered only to become wordless for how
not everything survives the winter, not everything
returns from the frost. Florid blooms, tell me
there is more than this love we have let
lie fallow for too long. Tell me there is soft
earth somewhere to bury this grief
until it blossoms.