Snowed
The snow fills me like an IV needle, and there is
a snowstorm in my brain. Snow is falling today.
It's overwhelming, like my windshield wipers trying to
keep up with it. Snow is all around us, covering the ground
and creating a beautiful landscape. It reminds us of where
we came from, a storm of gametes and genetics.
The weather forecast predicts more snow
in the coming week. One day, the stars will fall like
snowflakes into our hands, and we will remember that we
were once fish in a sea filled with ice. The snow wipes
away memories and even my grandmother's face. When
your children return from playing in the snow, you will
rejoice and lift them high into the air, showering them with
kisses until they vanish. As we melt into the earth, snow
is also where we are going. But snow is also a message
from water, pleading with us to listen.
Grandma's Funk & Wagnalls
Silence may have the widest range of expression, but I am still
in love with words. It is best to say as little as possible about
it, as there are no words that can truly describe the beloved.
Just like tent cities, language lacks structure and is made up of
unclaimed sentences. Despite this, I am cautious of words, yet
I still have so much to say. Once she gives you her heart, you
can never return it. A woman truly loves you when she helps
you rediscover your old-fashioned ways. Words can distance
us from reality and give us a distorted perspective. They bring
a temporary loss of direction and fill your heart with warmth.
When she looks at you, you feel a halo around your head.
David M. Alper is a high school AP English teacher in New York City, residing in Manhattan. His work appears in Variant Literature, Red Ogre Review, Oxford Magazine, and elsewhere.
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