Suddenly: it is everywhere. The flowers wreathing edelweiss on your favorite coffee mug, the tiles on your balcony, out of your partner’s mouth when he asks: “what shade blue would you call our building?” We deliberate: not sky, not baby, not periwinkle or teal. I say powder. He says, “No, the Chargers uniforms are powder blue; this is not powder blue.” He is always so sure; this, I covet.


You’ll find me oxidized and open wide, yet rust resistant

The heart

The heart / splits open like / a frost flower—