Quarantine Archive (2020 NaPoWriMo #19)

My “walking archive” specimen tray held time.
Held fragility.
Held change.
Held life.

In the moments after I scooped
snow, it
became slush,
became water.

If I wait long enough the tray
will dry leaving a
ring of sediment:
ghostly evidence.

All I want is to hold
snow that
remains snow:
freeze time.