Response to Warsan Shire’s “Snow”

Nazgul in a fall

It’s not enough that I’m in love with pain,
we’re always on this cruise on who is to blame.
Today it may leave me with a swollen eye
or yet again grow another tumor in the heart that never heals
some call her woman, and say her breasts are made of fur
so when I lay my head on her, all my hardness purrs.
To find where we will always meet, look into my palm
all its footprints are there, and still yet I feel calm.
So whether I travel to India or Russia
whenever it is time, we all must oblige
so I’m like the pale boy and the ring
me my precious and my ever shy Sam.

Ruddapoet