the snow falls
in thick drifts

the world is dressed
for a wedding.

the wind dances
on the wings
of a solitary seagull
who can be seen crossing
into oblivion;
over that threshold
where the gaze cannot
follow, so thick
is the haze of snow
that has descended upon us;
like a premonition.

that is where I last saw you;
standing at the prow
of a ship slowly sailing
over the edge of the world.

you, the gull,
the snow I clench
in cold hands
that close into fists;
all these things and more
are lost to me –
fading from memory
like a willow
under eons
of snow.

Caitlin Cacciatore
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