Snow flurries

They are coming down in fat chunks, heavy and rapid,
Each unit a stack of football players, five or six tackling
One, pinning them onto the ground with the momentum
From spiralling out from the sky, enthusiastic as a toddler
Leaping onto a piggyback ride. They hurry down to 
Disappear on my hair, a gentle touch not quite there,
And paint the movement of the wind along the way
Like neon paint on an invisible man. I wonder whether

I will eventually become part of the snow if I lay down here
And have them fall upon me and not disappear;
Or will I leave behind a wet cookie-cutter shape
Carved into the white carpet with the sharp knife 
Of body heat, the evidence I leave behind, unlike
You, who leaves without a word or trace in my life.