Samiya Bouziane Merceron–Contributor

On your way home, you see geckos in the snow

In the corner of your eye 

they fly by 

Stumbling, and tumbling, and scattering

Across the sparkling ice 

Their smudged tails are stolen apple stems

Their eyelashes are french hemmed leaves

And their flat tongues are pink pickled ginger 

The wind blows and glosses your eyes

So you plant them in the frost 

Careful with each step’s slow rise.

Graphic courtesy of Latoya Simms