Cereal on a Cold Day - Aiden Peterson

The hugest bowl of cereal the world has

ever seen and a gigantic oar is the sole

appropriate tool. Snow dogs have the coldest toes,

put them beside the radiator. Hang your wet clothes

above the tub, that graveyard of clothing, mismatched

and itchy, blushed beside January’s complexion.

Frostbite can’t catch me, for I’ve donned

wool socks and a sweater from my one

old flame, my old spool, hand spun! Dip

my fingertips in my coffee cup to hold sweetness

quicker. Fingertips taped blue, no picture of health,

mirror our cityscape draped in knitwear, suspended

in subzero. Pour your heart on the page like

a bowl of milk, spilled and spangled by cinnamon.

Hands are no longer, only cinnamon frostbite. Cling

to your oar, straining memories of passed spring through

Winter’s Cold Muck. Keep searching for squares.