What if we are snowflakes in sunshine

backlit and radiant as any of
the haloed saints and twice as
ethereal, pyres of
photons

I reflect all (Im rubber)
reverberating witness (you're glue) to
this particular particle moment
fresh as dirt
I teem, I worm
I roil and lye
still as a burn.

I would be a small
strange sun if I could choose
consuming each sugary star

Universes could not satisfy.