By Akubudike Deborah

i walk backwards on the snow:
     on you; take a handful 
 of you: your reflection on my caramel skin; 
mold it into me, into my memories.

let that white skin, like white roses, pierce my monochrome eyes - 
from lapses of time, you shoot me an ellipsis, 
 one at a time - three shots to paint that white rose red.
three shots to paint you on me.

& i
 try to wash out these stains, in the snow; 
try to 
 tint a snowman scarlet, a perfect glow; hoping he'd wake up with the feel of my folded hands.

yes, so you see
 even you & i know
  that love and pain are fruits of the same tree, a similar taste of hard liquor.

 you & i,
  from the same snow:

a refracted ray of snowflakes on my face, bits & bits, molds & balls, 
  lumps of white, & red, & brown 


Akubudike Deborah is a poet and lyricist from Imo State who draws her inspiration from various things including the Bible, philosophy, Greek mythology, art, etc. Her work has been featured in The Cypress Journal, The Unpublishable Zine, amongst others. She can be reached on Twitter: @akubudikedebbie; Instagram: @ad_poet and blog: