BE CAREFUL NOT TO LOSE YOURSELF

I couldn’t talk about marriage.
The ways to shape snow into
men that melt every spring.

The careful packing of
wet particles—
making it hard,
making it ice,
making it melt.

This snow.
Man.

Like Alaska cold, these men
cage a summer sun,

a woman that never sets.

These men and their words
that mean nothing.

I do.
I do!

(Wake up, I say.

My wedding dress is soaking wet
from the pond

I fell in.)
I fell in love.
Mr. pull me out.

You are all the water
I’ve become.

Amanda Adrienne Smith is a one-time indie horror actress and currently works in aerospace. Her poetry can be found in Right Hand Pointing, The Rising Phoenix Review, Ghost City Review, and MEMEZINE to name a few. You can find her on social media @amandaadrienne.