So, Swim in White Snow

So, Swim in Snow With Me

and we will come to be

the last ones to find beauty

in the cattails and white reeds.

Let's go down to our pond

frozen closed, fully clothed,

ready to show the fauna and critters

whose nose goes red first in the cold.

We can talk and write and shoot the breeze

with your dad's rifle for biting us

with rougé-stained teeth.

I kiss your cheek.

The noise brings a rabbit closer

so you take your dad's rifle from its holster and

the pure snow surrenders to the umber blood

and the air smells heavily of iron.