with cold lips

frost flowers

melting on the windowpane—

my breath

a passageway

among the stars

~Ribbons 11:1, winter 2015

nine red birds

in a swirl of snow. . .

have they flown

from some fairy tale

yet to be written?

~red lights 11:2, June 2015

with cold lips

she tastes the snow

on frozen pomegranates—

Persephone dreaming

of meadowsweet and rue

~Atlas Poetica Special Feature: 

Myths and the Creative Imagination, April 2015