when buried beneath a snowstorm

you lose sense of every direction

except desperation. in darkness sometimes

trying to dig your way out you end

up burying yourself even deeper

becoming an epitaph on your own

struggle, a tldr made flesh.

i've never really seen real snow

but i still suffocate whenever

it's newly cold. it is said i should lie

down bellyfirst and let someone drum

soft taps onto my back and sides, drink

warm milk with turmeric daily and have

a spoonful of honey with powdered pepper

every night. but i make do with an inhaler

a tub of vicks vaporub and a bad joke.

when buried under snow, it is said

dig a little and then spit— if it falls

on your face you're moving

in the right direction. the bad joke—

when she asks me why do you still

use the inhaler i could say because

you're still breathtaking. i remember

watching the revenant which had lots

of harsh snow but also a tender line

in pawnee that kept flashing across

dicaprio's grizzly-mauled mind—

when there is a storm... and you

stand in front of a tree... if you look

at its branches, you swear it will fall

but if you watch the trunk, you will

see its strength.

while digging your way out of that darkness

forget the spit on your face and the fact

that you've lost your goggles— as soon as you

surface the swirling prisms of the snowstorm

will blind you. i've seen enough

clips of snow to know small snowballs

don't roll into big ones like we're shown

in cartoons— they become some vaguely

wobbling wheel. what does that say

of the way we teach our kids

about consequences? i've never seen

real snow, let alone be buried in it

but i still have spit on my face.

what does that say about the way

we keep ourselves warm?

what does that say about you

taking my breath away?

~ ajay

10/2/2022