Make Believe

Our only cover is time

and the thin air of winter.

Become addicted to something 

especially the idea 

of who you are.

This is necessary make believe. 

Do we know the rose is a rose? 

That the frost on its hip

is the ash of burning angels?

Unlikely, is the answer

that quietly avoids our loss.

Our only cover is time

and from the garden we never left.

We only painted our eyes 

with the blood of our birth 

and wrapped our faces in cellophane.