Let the night be a snapshot for
the joy of the day after, Damsels
wending to endings, but then
Analía is missing
off the trail of Santa, but
things are found.
Snapshot of a girl’s things:
purple scarf in the ice
blood, a shoe, an axe
and a herring;
slay marks elicit
forensic chatter.
Sanguine ice crystals lay in
a few clues of struggle.
Meteor showers streak
like lines of hope in the sky.
At the Lodge, Analía
is found safe and
laughing with Santa.
There are many gifts except
a girl with a purple scarf
is missing a celebration
A moment in the snow
bleeds out in a slurry
of red slush upon a snowbank.
The night is frozen in a moment.
Vignettes of death and joy.
Poet Laureate of the Primitive Planets 