Yuki-Onna
for Catherynne M. Valente
Incarnate ghost of winter,
my final lover,
take what you will.
Flow through me,
with your crystallizing kiss.
Your slow permafrost seduction,
a cold, numbing opiate.
But, as my final breath rises
through the barest of branches,
know this, Yuki-Onna,
whose feet leave no prints
in the powdered snow:
You did not find me
lost in your storm.
I sought
and found
you.
from 'Dark Intervals'
