home by erin kiernan

If, for some reason,

You were chained to a pole

In a land without season,

Perpetually cold

And if I, shall we say,

Lived in New Orleans,

Licked beignets all day,

Nights peppered by dreams

I’d leave my sugared world behind,

I’d shred my gown of lace,

March the world till you I’d find,

And kiss your icy face

No, I do not like the cold,

Frankly, I abhor it,

But if you were there, regardless of where,

I bet I could ignore it