Sun Poisoned

New England Spring

it's still cold,
like needles to the skin.
Stirring my bones into the basin of dry ice.
Joints beneath a layer of thick snow,
Moving slow.

Sluggish, syrupy breaths,
Gulping for air under my gut.
A salted wound on open skin,
Lightly seasoned.

A skating rink.
A sliding blade beneath each pair of feet.
A second chance.

Itching raw red cheeks,
Rubbing the dandruff from my hair.

Rinsing my lashes,
ridding of each snowflake.

I like this thin ice I ride upon.
-Vivi