Winter Solstice, 2019

what I don’t say around my family
is I rarely fall in love with anything

I don’t want to swallow and know
from our sweet vulnerable

insides as we meet
as I have spoken to you

each night hidden myself
in your mirror each morning

in your moonrise I’ve felt
the lake turning

pink getting warmer
a brutal devotion

like a child feels
their mother’s betrayals

not yet fathoming
even their own

for this year at least your face will
be ice again

and the fishers will come
test the cracks find

a dark wet eye
to plunge lovers will dare

each other to venture
out farther than they should

it can take
eons to erode rock

but the water will
come away with

the smallest
unseeable layer

with each freeze
and wave

it only matters
that you feel

beautiful
all that matters

is that

CJ Scruton is a non-binary poet living in Milwaukee, where they research ghost stories and are associate editor for Cream City Review. Their work has appeared in The Journal, Puerto del Sol, Juked, and others. Find them on Twitter @cj_scruton or at cscruton.com.