Iciness Poem by Ivona Sophia

I gave up studying Icelandic.
there are fourteen vowels in their alphabet.
my mouth goes dry after a few words.
there is no place I could practice it.
maybe during the one day when winter
really happens here, just for a few hours
find a secluded place between two cities
buried temporarily in snow repeat words
which can be useful next time we meet,
and you will bring me a frozen rose with
petals already dead. we will exchange
a few smiles. you will fix my scarf
with your cold fingers, and I will repeat
those new words I learned just to impress you
and forget them the next day.

from a plane’s window our island
looks like a bed with white satin sheets.