Rough Pillow, A Golden Shovel

Mother of snow / smoking a cigarette ration, your dark / lipstick mouthprint hungry /
for the frail paper  
— Jean Valentine, "Light Me Down"

I know now I need you back Mother
I need to tell you something of
where I have landed here in the snow
storm of certainty versus confusion smoking
inside of me a-
nother body smooth and dangerous as a cigarette
I do not know what to do with her this ration
of rage and shame not unlike your
own days strewn over satin sheets dark
as mud after the melting your angry lipstick
your mouth is my mouthprint
o are we always hungry
always wanting more for 
anything other than who we are the
scale of our own sturdy and frail
bodies of silk paper