Prologue

Be before Do.
          - D. W. Winnicott

I have felt the cold
in many places—

the chronic chill
that hollows bones
into bird bones,

that makes the body ache
for the weight
of another’s warmth.

I have longed to be covered
in moans

and found only a whisper
would reach me
through the snow.
 
In the moment between breaths,
I begin.

_