Now that we know.

Drenched in hot yellow light
of a summer afternoon,
eyes shrunk and
have you ever been to the snow?
Sam asked Bina.
but i've been to the sea, she said.

Heavy breathing air
and a winter crow
struggled out of his ear-hole.
cold shiver mornings
haloed pines
blacks and greys in contrast with
a blinding shining whiteness that spread
from this corner of the eye
to that empty trunk of the tree.
why wouldn't she
want to be there?

It was just then,
the warm sea
on the left side of her heart
surged and wavered.
it covered, touched
the ends of a horizon
of a purple-orange sun.
it's a kind of weakness
not to know the sea,
she answered.

The next morning,
when they woke up
she asked him,
we just miss
some kind of vastness,
is it?