“The Melt of Letting Go ” by Nicole Robinson


I cannot bend against every thought
I throw into the air, stare expecting
snow to pile into circumstance.
If it does, I let it be.
When I was young I wrote
letters in the snow for god.
I know the itch of cold.

I can handle silence, wrap it
tightly in my hand. Eventually
ice turns into water. Today
I am practicing goodbye,
my open hand, the melt
of letting go.