Chen Chen

recipe found in a winter boot

hurtle the cake.
              hurdle the grave.
tell the smallest dog
              your smelliest you.
erase the hand erasing
              the mouth. move to a distant
memory with your worst
              marginalia. or favorite
cousin. journal about it.
              type up
your review of the year’s
              first snow: a predictably
thrilling sequel
              to what the leaves,
not too long ago, said.

then, kiss the snow.

pick up a heaping
              handful & smooch it.
feel the snow
              give you smoochies back.
listen to it. listen
              close. the snow.
each fluttering little note of it
              saying, kiss me
& kiss me
              here & here.