Flurry

And in an instant, the blizzard has arrived. We wade through heavy, wet drifts on the corners: me pulling the hood tighter over my brow, her sticking her tongue out to taste the snowflakes as they fall. I have wrestled with the angel and I am stained with light and I have no shame. The air in my lungs is so tired, the blood in my veins, it always took me a minute to catch up, I know the woman who lives in me, how she sways around her thoughts and her moves before landing, how you cannot rush her. A day spreads out before me in freedom; once this snow passes, I will be left only with letters and ink, once this snow passes the city will be different than it was. I cannot stop the world from changing. The mice find new corners to chew, to make their way into this home where the heat doesn't work and the rent doesn't make sense: this heart was not made for clean lines and checked boxes, it lives only for passion and delirium, I cannot force it to settle for less. Life is much to precious to accept complacency.

I go to bed early, try to ignore the mice in the wall. If I sit in this chair for long enough, eventually I will remember what I came here to do.

And I will do it.