storage organ

just days ago i loathed the very idea of returning to routine; breaking out of year-end heathaze to travel forward into drear, again

but now the snow, apocryphal snow, is coming. now is springtime. and i burst forth

how painful, the very thought - to wait in stasis? to stand apart when those i love are near at hand?

all that i have been saving, each bit of energy supplanted in my heart by the lurch of night, each clear drop of evaporating water that draws sleep from across my eyes

every skill i have ever honed must come into being now. every admirable trait, every beacon of sharpness and breadth

which is to say, i must emerge, now. i must grapple, actively. the point of slumber may tend illusory, when we have hidden ourselves for too long

how dare this snow obscure from me what readiness i had prepared in wait? how dare this procession of worldly insensitude thwart my dearest yearnings?

there lies, beneath the mussed hairs upon my forearms, a fiber of anticipation that has attenuated, so steadily, and now widens with terrifying pace, refusing to slacken for even a second

emotion, impossible to name, throttles me: let me come out