On the Anniversary
of Your Sobriety
lauren davis
We trudge the veiled mountain trail
to touch the last patch of snow,
keeping tight to the path, respecting the flora.
Heads down, we find a small cluster
of white, and bend to it as if to drink.
I kiss you, and I taste all your possibilities—
avalanche, new and old growth forest.
On my cheek, small hairs from your dry shave.
Your mouth full of daybreak.
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