by Adrienne Novy
crying during your counseling session
or
explaining to your therapist how lonely the cold months are
or
January in Minnesota
or
a blizzard of headaches
or
to be stranded in a whiteout
or
the blankness of a dry mouth
or
dripping your spine into the shower drain
or
snuffing out the light
or
Prozac startling your brain, smacking you in the forehead with a shovel
or
vivid nightmares of premeditated murders: a bitter man breaking into the hospital, brandishing a machete
or
carving out pieces of yourself with an apple knife, rationing your body for the winter
or
mistaking a flurry for an avalanche
or
snow banks of dirty clothes, three weeks worth of dishes, empty coffee cups, a refrigerator full of rotting
or
avoiding the climbing; being suffocated by mountains.