visibility is alkaseltzer in a foaming glass. 
snowfall reaches around slowly cinching
up its buttons. drips of milk,
nipple-latched earth, hungry
for something not itself
that comes from somewhere else.
your body smells of arrivals and departures
though you stayed the whole night the same place.
from your hotel room last night, reaching for it—asking for—
beyond bodily pains and croissants.
a sign of you. swallowing to fill a hollow,
now even hungrier. peering from Gate C22.
over the frosted plane, sweating in your coat.