just like i’m gonna swallow tons
of snowflakes in the white night.
the city’s so wide and bright tonight
i know i’ll completely disappear
in it, and reappear lively in my bed,
in someone-i-don’t-know-yet’s arms,
in yet’s arms
i’ll be wet with snow
-men dreams, covered with
invisible messages the someone traced
on my sleeping skin, while i was busy
waking up
every single breath fainting in my dream.
then this someone’ll fade into the morning
whiter than the night if that’s possible
at all, after not finding egg whites in the
blinding and blinking refrigerator.
i’ll rise from this no someone’s land
that’s my bed. my cat’ll make cookies
on me just like i’m a piece of sheet
or something.
i’m a piece of snow, man, can’t you see?
can’t you see
me – rolling in crispy snow, yet to discover
this someone’s message on my skin that screams,
i wanna see you
AGAIN.
*** This poem has been written for dVerse Poets Pub, tonight about invisibility. Context: tonight is the Nuit blanche in Montréal (literally white night, a series of cultural events that last all night long in the city, and prevent its inhabitants from sleeping – as this is what the expression faire une nuit blanche means: to not sleep at all during a night. I cheated and slept in my poem, somehow.***
Hiroshimem 