Leila Chatti
there is a little winter light it goes a long way
golden capsule in an upturned palm
cheeks pressed against the knees and deep
breaths breaths counted
outside the world that doesn’t particularly care about keeping me
leaving like a child
its white sun blue cold all over the place
snow like paperwhites in the window
I could disappear no one would know
the promising thing is that I didn’t
what passes for joy: alive
I washed my face and did the dishes
