by Nix Carlson
frostbitten hands snatch at the cigarette
dangling from your lips and
you stoop to meet my gaze with a hangdog expression.
i want to be angry
(god, i want to be so angry)
because cigarettes will kill you in a lifetime, and –
i have handwarmers in my fucking pocket.
but love is a two-way street, so it doesn’t matter if
my pockets are overflowing with iron powder and saltwater, or if
my hands offer woolen mittens, or if
i crank the heat in my bedroom to ninety degrees
with just the friction of my hips on yours.
love is a two-way street, and
if your frostbitten hands won’t drop their carcinogens,
you’ll freeze to death.
i cannot exhale love onto your fingertips,
bring feeling back into your bones,
without you first reaching for me.
and i want to be angry
(god, i want to be furious)
but how can i be, when the only thing
your body knows
is how to weather
a midwest
winter?
Nix Carlson (she/they) is a queer, polyamorous, and neurodivergent poet and sign language interpreter based in Lexington, KY, with strong ties to Milwaukee, WI. Their work appeared or is forthcoming in Wildscape, Orange Rose, Vellichor Literary, Art of Nothing Press, Broken Stone Review, Coming Up Short, Eunoia Review, and Page Gallery, among others. You can find them on Instagram at @bynixec.