by Madison Zehmer Gleb Lucky the decay of her december will lurk until I take my breath and burn it dead, lips raw, busted nerve on gravel. snowstorms eat my lungs blue. flakes dissolve, bleed tongue saliva sick. I let floodwater loose in shivering ground, turn spiderlilies into fume. I’ll call this what it is, expose bone, take a look. fragile as windstorm, fingerprints ignite negative space, shell of air eviscerated. I dissect what was, what’s gone; I pull apart oxygen, mem