tears freeze on my cheeks and i tear 

them off to feel the sting of it. i walk 

with my feet pointed out because i read 

somewhere it gives penguins more traction 

and i feel  black and white and red

all over. i feel like my skin is tearing 

itself open exposing my arteries to paper 

snowflakes or freezer burn. my chest 

split open with icicles and almost-melted

road slush. i want to break my bones

in snow boots. taint the polar bear fur

with blood. maybe after crashing my car

into a snow plow. with my skull

cracked open and brain spread across

the windshield, red drips onto my legs 

as my toes fall off. i sipped spiked 

eggnog. i wanted you to build me 

into one of those mall ice sculptures, 

dripping  all over the tile floor. 

my organs have been reconfigured 

by that santa sculpture you ran over 

in your mom’s front yard because

we were supposed to be like penguins

not like the documentary but the ones

that never leave each other’s side. i’m 

waiting for you to notice the leaves 

crushed underneath half white 

but mostly gray slush and the blood 

dripping through my christmas sweater,

like the lights we hung from your 

garage roof constantly flickering

and you can’t tell how bright

it is until it’s dark out. or like

rudolph’s nose, if it was less shiny

or more oozing . last christmas

you stole each ornament off

our tree and all of my teeth. this year, 

i gave them to you. i’m waiting 

for another false spring. to forget

winter before freezing over again. 

this piece was previously published by JAKE the magazine.