I don't own Trigun. I just write poetry about it. The follwing takes place in/around eps. 23. If you have not seen it you probably will not understand it, but there are potential spoilers, so be warned.


Snow
I.

Even without a shirt on, 
it is warm
He stands by the window
and in the light of the moons
the sand looks almost silver.
If he had ever seen snow
It might have reminded him 
of it	just a little.
As it is, he has only
heard the legends.
It was cold they said, and soft
And white
whiter than bones
whiter than milk
whiter than anything you'd ever seen.
And it made everything clean
 they said.
How would that be?

He lets out a slow stream of smoke
from his cigarette
and folds his arms across his chest
blocking out fairy tales.

Looking at the woman in his bed though
smiling in her sleep
he thinks maybe he doesn't need snow.


II.

He stands outside
even though the setting sun
is blinding
as it paints blood across the sky
the color of his coat.
He stands there
trying not to see the trail of blood
left in the street.
He stands there because he can't 
face the crying.
It reaches him even out here,
a mourning wail

He tries to think of anything else
tries not to notice the blood
and his mind casting around
fixes on snow.
It is strange.

He had seen pictures of it
Rem had shown him,
told him about it
how it was cold
how it fell from the sky
how when it fell on your face
it felt like tiny kisses
and when you danced in it, 
you disappeared.

Rem had said that snow
was quiet
that heavy snow muffled everything
it became a void of sound
as it fell, covering everything
earth, houses, 
	blood....

Rem had said people could die in it too
becoming so cold they went numb
falling asleep in a big white blanket.
He felt it then
inside of himself 
first cold
then numbness
the snow falling slowly
packing down inside of him
perfect, silent, and cold.





~Rachel Fox~ 11/01


---------------------

I was up late (or early depending how you look at it) the night before I wrote this capturing Trigun clips on my computer, and the next morning I was walking to school through falling snow, and I began to wonder what the folks on Planet Gunsmoke would think of it. I am still not over Ep. 23, I think that is why when the words for this poem started coming, they happened to take place during that episode.

The two parts are taken from two specific scenes in that episode, the one with Wolfwood shirtless, standing by the window, and the one at the very end with Vash standing outside the house as Milly cries. I really struggled with the second half (Vash's part) and am still not sure I really got it the way I wanted> Perhaps I should have just posted the first part. Any c&c is very welcome at aerinn@hotmail.com