Snowflakes whip past my ears...singing songs with glass-pitched choruses (like singing saws, with cobra hips) rushing in with stinging kisses.   I see you through the igloo glass... your mittens on the bedside table. You lose your grip on locquats. They fall into the snow.   These little embers.      If I thought I wouldn't wake you from the glittered arc of swan dive falling into silvery waters, I might have slipped inside. Ice slippery from the heat of two...this is me if this is...the one who left by way of math equations sent ice running across beelines tangled. Loopholes tightened off with tiny crushes.   These little embers.      I see you through the igloo glass. You're throwing sparks into the falling snow. Beneath your flutter...still a flicker...a glacial glow?   These little embers. This little light of mine.