Snow Day

by Kyla Alterman

Across the vast, white expanse
covered in a thick blanket
of snow-day snow
a stinging howl
carries fallen stardust
that spirals into
mock tornados
to pelt our faces;
the pink spreading
from the tip of my nose,
across my sinuses.

The football game
left the ground between
our touchdown trees
war torn.
While you stare
at what we left behind, I run
into you with the complete force
of my icicle limbs.
Your left foot slides an inch,
you let out a laugh;
27 tries and I still
can’t take down
your balanced, skinny frame.

I yell my defeats
into the crook of your neck,
swaddled in red cashmere.
My fists leave
faint indents
on your coat, and
your breath leaves
cold kisses, soothing
to know you’re mine.
Our hands say so too
from inside your pockets.