the tree seized--

coming and going

jerkily like

an infant in the arms of Boreas.

i feel the February air

creeping across the sea.

can you not sense it, love:

the hard edge,

the toothèd frost?

it is dangerous,

it is brisk;

it makes the leaves bare their necks.

i am a leaf, yellowing on the branch.

my blood is old and tired but I--I am

young and alive. Comes

the wind. The harsh fast O the pristine

pain of hangingon, The sun is out

I feel I could almost stay

ALIVE god i am intact but Torn the soul of the world is my

soul oh my god Torn Apart

Cold

. i am,

i remain,

food for a saprotroph.

it is this way each year. i cannot feel

but fragile;

the frozen rose

in the body of a sister.

i cannot wear this skin;

my body quakes and my limbs wither,

and i am surrounded by the frigid air.

10/14/2002

Posted on 10/19/2002
Copyright © 2025 Indigo Tempesta