winter vacation
under ice and snow words froze
inside my head
were so many little poems
aching,
as was i,
for some legitimization
by placement
on paper with pen
or on screen with fingers
while i ignored the push and
sated my palette
with alcohol and so
many little pills and
leaves in pipes
developed to keep me silent
to keep the world beautiful
in its ugliness
so the words did not have to do the work
while inside,
a flower wilted
waiting for the sunlight
of a spring rain’s breaking
to whisper life’s
return