far enough below the Frozen,
mad humidity rises from
earth's boiling core.
warm stone's wait 'round white
roots that stay shy and hidden
behind winter's poker face.
i am decembered in rooms that shake
with the weight of heaving trucks
gearing down, while the highway
goes mainstreet for a span through
this tiny tapeworm town.
i need
i
need to be ...
beside me, a whisper i passed through,
hesitant ... turned back and passed
again, backtracked to listen. a redness
speaking ardently of crystallized
white. tree terraced winter splintering the
cold crust just jutting in cracks
sent out as star felled, deliberate
sky debris pell mells below the bellow
of a soft soled shoe.
is it his?
is he coming? will he
ever ...
i need ...
tracks so vague -- set deep but spreading.
slow going either/neither way.
it is not winter though in the
white room of my thought, where
temperature's disinterested and lost
to a skyline tight drumfull of
vapors - porous poison, fragrant bloom
distracting the wind to come, then carry
its scent to my lips. buried there like
the taste of him only heard beneath
my skin. dethroning all other senses,
usurping calm countenance kept over
my handful of cards.
cards fill my close-chested palm with
royalty. one-eyed kings can't see me
while i wait to play, but perhaps will
choose to fold, withdraw, lay flush
and let the winnings go to
his cool hand.
it's sad display fanning
a few spades
and a joker with
a too familiar face.
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