Every Time

Do you have stars
in your mouth?
she asks
and I laugh,
she’s never tasted
winter like I have,
midnights that linger
for days. Yes,
I tell her. Come see.

Will there be breath?
For a while, I whisper
and blow on her hands,
but you will sing
and the aurora lights
will walk across the ice.

She lets me 
put my hands on her.
Will I die? her hair
like snow.
Yes.  I tell her.
Every time.

Jude Goodwin  

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