not one powder pic

trapped by grading papers; cats;

and bad parenting

i want these cookies

to sweeten her back five years

when she still loved me:

alas, i’ve lost her

before her fifteenth birthday

to piles of lies

stretched between then, now:

stairs that lead to nowhere, fast.

and words? lost to me.

five a.m. wake up

(even if I’m not skiing

I dream of powder)