Dreams swirl in like snow,
drift in piles — lovers, loved.
I wrap each in burlap,

lash openings against the cold.
Some vanish by dawn —
frozen, quiet, quick to go.

Others — warmed, stroked,
unbind themselves — return, hot,
mute my muffled screams.

Candles I disrobe you by
drip waxy fire, memories wafting
across each fold and pleat.

Slow to know love from heat,
I warm myself in steam
rising from the open seams.