Icicles
By Johanne Lambert
Icicles.
I am mesmerized by your frigid beauty, sun-kissed, first light passes through your transparent gaze.
One, two droplets of water hang from your battered form, you hold on for dear life, until like tears, they fall, to melt into the lacy patchwork of snow blanketing the earth.
Icicles.
I press my gloved fingers to your smooth edge, rub off the frosty coating, gelatinous cover pinches woollen threads, dusty blue, to leave their mark on your frigid form.
Icicles.
Daggers overhead splice the spreading shadows,
prisms dance in the spaces left by the setting sun.
jagged crust –
fragment,
fall to pieces,
tiny casings gather on the ground.
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