Chen Chen

recipe found in a winter boot

hurtle the cake.

              hurdle the grave.

tell the smallest dog

              your smelliest you.

erase the hand erasing

              the mouth. move to a distant

memory with your worst

              marginalia. or favorite

cousin. journal about it.

              type up

your review of the year’s

              first snow: a predictably

thrilling sequel

              to what the leaves,

not too long ago, said.

then, kiss the snow.

pick up a heaping

              handful & smooch it.

feel the snow

              give you smoochies back.

listen to it. listen

              close. the snow.

each fluttering little note of it

              saying, kiss me

& kiss me

              here & here.

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