Cold Love

By Katelynne Davis Shimkus

in the fridge of winter
those barren plains your favorite walking-grounds
cane of veinless wood
monocle clamped to your eye, melting in a perpetual tear
I followed you, though I was supposed to hibernate
warmed myself by your cigar
left footprints in the white ocean – you walked on water
and I, in faith, followed
Wreathed in ice, I fell like a snowflake
and let the sun catch me
shining a halo
Those wintry nights when the moon looked in the snow like a mirror

When the spring came, I rushed down with the thaw
But proud you like Zarathustra
retreated to the top of the mountain to your cave
I cried April showers
lay mayflowers on your memory
sat in the mud to let the sun bake me dry
At first I smelt the fields into gold
and fashioned a thousand perfect idols
but all their zeal and veal could not satisfy me
So with Shiva’s power I destroyed
with the cosmic dance red yellow orange flames out of a blue core sky
I brought the fire to your door, to flush you out like a fox
But the firs stood firm, burned up gray
like grave markers
So I wait – for the first prickle of cold mustache and warm lips
The silent precipitation of cenezea perfecto ash from gray sky
I have been up late, waiting for you
I want to see you before my blood freezes

Photo by Katelynne Davis



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