Coco

I can only wish to check off something from my

endless lists that create the illusion of success.

What will it be today?

My week old math homework due in the next hour

or adding another item to my list?

I'm lost in little infinities, 

in stars that multiply the longer I look.  

I lose count of what's real and what's not, 

unsure when the endless stream of numbers concludes, 

the smell of snow 

sharp and bright 

like the world holding its breath  

just before it turns new 

There is a language 
spoken only in half-glances, 
in the weight of a pause 
just before someone smiles.