Trevor Moffa
Myself as snow
How I melt in waiting,
Impatience in a palm,
Wet with rebellion,
Recollecting my questionable self
Between the veins
On the back of this hand.
How I become a clock
To mock the frozen. Potential
Spent on the breaking
Of crystalline order, spent
So I might drip predictably,
Not to occupy your eyes
In tracing my every escape
Before retracing and waiting
For the rest of me to follow,
But to return to,
And warm, for just a moment,
The frozen ground where you found me.
Trevor Moffa is a poet and former coal miner, park ranger, bookseller, and button pusher from Pittsburgh, PA. His poems have most recently appeared or are forthcoming in 3Elements Review, Sampsonia Way Magazine, Nimrod International Journal, Shambles, and Roanoke Review.