The End of Winter

Today it will snow, and the city will shut down, and I will watch and laugh. How curious to exist in a climate like this, to watch the place I call home crumble because of a storm, minor or otherwise.

My bones know that it is the end. They ache to be snapped into seeds. I am always writing about death and rebirth, about how my teeth will redden into the skin of an apple and how you will swallow my remembrance with reverence.

In a month and a few days, our bodies will be ripe for harvest. The skies...