Instead, the year begins with my knees scraping hardwood another man leaving into my throat. Fresh snow crackling on the window, each flake a letter from an alphabet I've shut out for good. Because the difference between prayer & mercy is how you move the tongue. I press mine to the navel's familiar whorl, mola**es threads descending toward devotion. & there's nothing more holy than holding a man's heartbeat between your teeth, sharpened with too much air. This mouth the last entry into January, silenced with fresh snow crackling on the window. & so what -- if my feathers are burning. I never asked for flight. Only to feel this fully, this entire, the way snow touched bare skin & is, suddenly, snow no longer.