Snow by Exsanguine Hart

Poem title: Snow Poet Name: Exsanguine Hart Poem begins: Des souvenirs d’un hiver fondu. My hands are shaking. Is this how I am meant to be? Life passes through the cup, draining into their mouths, missing their lips, cheeks drip- ping with wax, a melting December. Maman, suis-je un enfant? Fangs, lost reflections, broken сказки disintegrating through guilt, a little trip into silence, watching the rooftops, chimney tops crumbling through my purple fingers. Дождь, the yellow iron fog lamps me laissent passer par la porte ouverte. Maman, je ne te vois plus, (я расту под сугробом, я падаю), a series of steady, diagonal streaks in the haze, chalk marks in the slushes, a mediocre warmth. Menacing boot stomps rustle closer through the damper, my kindling clumping in the stream that flows from the cup and congealing itself with the battered fruit, впечатление... Waterlogged, did I float? Maman, j’ai froid End of Poem. Credits: Copyright © Exsanguine Hart Exsanguine Hart is a poet and doodler living on the traditional territory of the Wendat, Haudenosaunee and Anishinaabe peoples. Hart’s poetry has appeared in their first poetry collection The Crows of After (December 2021) and on They can be found on Instagram @exsanguine_hart and lurking on