divide, divide

I.
once, you were mine. you belonged

II.
to me. my winters have always
belonged to you: dog-eared
blankets and the ground a soft
white belly footprinted with you,
our two hands teacupped around
each other, ruddy cold and stinging.
we argued over nothings unsweetened.
have you

III.
seen the deer? they miss you.
they turn their heads and look

IV.
for you at sundown.
I want something
to remember you by,

but snow melts
when I hold it.