Snow fall,
whispers of winds once lost
in the bones of rocks,
quiet breaths of winter
falling into open mouths,
swallowed into pits of
gastric acid, burning into
crystal vapor or running down
into the banks of rivers
until the sun makes clouds out of you.
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Pablito used to confuse you
for gunshots,
aimless careless brother-taking
snowflakes raining down
on his family,
frozen bullets sent by a
god who hides behind clouds,
it never snows in cali-for-ni-a
but Pablito did not
know that.
