my back against snow, baring weight to push
the pieces together. Some probably melt against
the warmth of my coat. My face freezes, i become
like earth and i think of my arms as branches—
a base for winged creatures. Their nests thin
song-wooded skins. What if i were skinned
Revealing tendon and vein, now a palimpsest.
The crescendo lovely and bucolic
beneath the heavy
snowfall like a lady slipper. i would have to walk slow
and slightly tilt my head to crawl out of it. But, no
to find the words that feel
the best on our tongues.
Kendalyn Mckisick is currently an MFA student in poetry at the University of Alaska, Fairbanks. She is originally from Little Rock, Arkansas. Her interests are raw vegan cooking, dog training, mushroom hunting, and mixed media sculpture. She teaches interdisciplinary poetics classes. Her writing has appeared in Equinox Magazine and #Bossliving.