An ocean sun through evergreens
peeks pink on opal snow,
a jagged horizon no pale-sailed boats
dare break.

Each inhale rakes our lungs
with cold.
My cheek seeks the crook
under my lover’s collarbone.
His isosceles hearth awakens
our corner of winter.

The abyss stretches before us,
a Bi-fröst bridge of sun, salt, snow.
Nothing is heavy yet,
and nothing is old.
There is only the sharp space
between surrender

and success,
as dark needled giants
cast their shadows on the sea.