Her touches are like snow icicles

Her touches are like snow icicles
Tongue tickling wisps of frozen light
Each fingertip is an isotonic particle
A throbbing cosmos of winter—delight

Her dock leaf strokes nettle wet kisses
Emblazoning my nerves like small owlets
Never hard pressed a serpents music hisses
Through gated forest bramble of thickets

Trickling into life a fresh snowfall melts
Summoned minerals at length subdivide
Two hearts—two souls—two carbon pelts
Two anatomies: and only one hillslide