I Have More Words for Mirror than I Have for Snow     
by Bobby Bolt III

Runestone, volume 2

I Have More Words for Mirror than I Have for Snow

We’re talking to ourselves again of seasons,
Where winter steals a memory of any place
You could go.  Your birthplace found in crystal

And night, so your eyes are a grey-blue December
Even now, and you’re driving somewhere
To find a movement with a truth: you always

Liked the leaving more than the arriving,
Knew that to break the frozen earth behind you
You must return to it in darkness.  Tonight’s glare

Pushing away shadows under a failing moon,
And pushing is often the only way to move
When the weather makes stiff a smile.

This face never rests, and you only want
To thaw in medical fusion with the frost,
Fading like the last note you wish would stretch

Just a little longer, but one sound always overtakes
Another, and all the snow angels melt
Like their individual stellate flakes diving into

Your headlights, dissolving glass in your eyes.  
Ice makes you celestial in space-bound racing
And you know when the air breathes as cold

And still, you’ve arrived on the threshold
Of incorrectness, because the constellations’
Distorted static message is a rare, fragile fiction.

Endings with blizzards that stopped meteors
And fire storms, the dictation misinterpreted,
But you stole this new line, for the record.  Disguises

Look more authentic in the dark, but it isn’t always
Better with the lights off and the getaway
Isn’t always clean.  The invisible boys and girls

Make their way home from the footprints
We left fossilized for ourselves to get back
To a start.  With bags half-packed, rooms half-

Trashed we looked again and blinked past
Reflections we thought untrue, because today
More than ever grey eyes eclipse blue.