Rebecca Hoogs


Heart, my box of snow

made it to Florida
and then I went for a walk.
The frog pond is half-iced over.
I chucked a stick at it —
still thin. On the white side,
the wind twirled a leaf around
like a prepubescent figure skater
who’s given up her childhood
to get here. Of course, the leaf
was wearing its practice costume
of browns, the whole world
offed of spangles as I am
offed of you. Why
mail snow? Just to show
I could keep it cold
in so much heat.