When it snows, I beg my lover
to walk outside & listen to music with me. I love
the cold & how our snuggled bodies come
together like bugs sucked
by a venus flytrap. The night air
means dry skin & like I was taught,
I smear Vaseline on my face.
I want to call my mother
& tell her my use of her secrets—
to be told again about the perks
of soft clothes & wool socks—
the comfort of our spring daisies
& their velvet wombs
where a song of past
Inside, I have to ask:
What song did you first play me?
Did you ever squeeze
your tummy against a speaker
& let the waves of fluid rock
me to sleep? Do I listen
to this song? In my softest moments,
do I press play & tell my lover,
I know all the lyrics to this one.