February Snows by Zoe Davis
Cold winter burns
Across this landfill heart
Lets nothing bloom
As you hesitantly navigate
This archipelago of sin
Face to the rain
A drought of tears
spilling
erupting
bludgeoning
Changing the climate of our relationship
Desire is breaking through, like roots between pavement cracks
Microscopic beauty you need to bend to see
But volcanic in its rage to be
To live
As we were the day the planet turned
Heaving like moon clenched ocean
Desperate to return then pull away,
Eternally cycling, without ever meeting.
When you studied my ecology
This hot, temperate brow
Was one you once placed kisses upon
Jungle rain on my cheeks
A smile of desolate planes
But now the lights have faded,
Electricity
A cost
Too dear to pay
For normal people
Yet we were both once wild
And you explored me
like a mountain
For I was there, and you were a conqueror
But like the February snows, they last,
Like the summers they last too long.
Everything's changing
My love,
And it is our fault.
“Okay, so I thought I was being so edgy coming up with ‘archipelago of sin’. I mean… what does that really mean? This was literally one of the first poems I wrote when I decided to start doing things a bit more seriously, and clearly wanted that to be expressed by using long words and odd metaphors about the body being some kind of dread land mass. Oh, and I make the words look a bit like a mountain at the end. -_- This just embarrasses me and yet it’s still kinda special because I know how much I tried to write something ‘good’.”
Zoe Davis is an emerging writer and artist from Sheffield, England. She studied English Literature at Lancaster University and writes in a number of styles and genres, but especially enjoys trying new things. When she is not writing, Zoe can be found drawing, baking, and playing para ice hockey- just not at the same time. You can follow her on Twitter @MeanerHarker where she is always happy to have a virtual coffee and a chat.