Years ago I summoned the Snow Queen down
from her palatial glacier, I swallowed shards of frost—
let the blood in my veins ice.
Now I am hunkered down, safe in a deep winter.
I can only tolerate small fires in the distance,
sighs of piñon smoke in the empty night sky.
Last week, a neighbor stopped by offering seeds
for spring—but I worry I’ve lost the talent for turning earth;
I fear the fragile blue and red flower buds—
panic, when the morning dew melts into my skin.
© Marisa Silva-Dunbar
Marisa Silva-Dunbar’s work has been published in Rose Quartz Journal, Awkward Mermaid, Spider Mirror Journal, Mojave He[art] Review, Anti-Heroin Chic Magazine, Poetry WTF?!, Better than Starbucks Magazine, Redheaded Stepchild, Words Dance Magazine and Gargoyle Magazine. She graduated from the University of East Anglia with her MA in poetry, and has been shortlisted twice for the Eyewear Publishing Fortnight Poetry Prize. She has work forthcoming in Mojave He[art] Review, Sixfold, Pussy Magic, Midnight-lane Boutique, and The Same. To contact her visit: