Snowflake

Snowflake

Snowflake

My mother kept a snowflake
in the freezer all winter.
Each time she opened the door
of the refrigerator
she would make a sound
like a Burmese kitten
being surprised by itself.
When I asked how she could tell
her snowflake from so many
crystals of ice, her smile
revealed the sapphires she’d had set
into her front teeth, and she said
‘Mine has worn an intricate
indentation as though
hot lace had passed
between the peas and ice cream.’
I settled for that, as I knew how hard
she had to work to keep level.
At dinner I would pretend
to be a good son, and her smile
enameled the table
with points of dark blue light.