Priscilla Becker - Seasonal Poem | Текст песни

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• Priscilla Becker
• Seasonal Poem

Snow would be the right weather

for today. Whiteness indicating

things that don’t exist. And a numbness

and a blanketing to recollect mother

Its second stage is frozenness, and though I long

for its touch across my face, its coldness

settling, what seems to happen

quicker than it should is the snow’s

paralysis. How willing it is

to take on other substances. How I used to run

to it barefoot before I thought

of my own comfort.

But the fall for which we’ve wished

the year is reticent; it hates its unreal

status, its intermittentness.

I could take a job – I’ve been thinking

about my purposes – collecting ice

for the eyes of the princess


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