Richard Allen Poet Free verse

Jack Frosdt and the Ice Queen

It freezes
	my breath back against my face
		     back against the wall;
stiff as cardboard
	like frozen washing dragging on the line
		     my skin ignores my bones;
icy slush
	slithers round the veins in my feet
		and no warm blood dare enter;
my fingers
	red and lumpy like raw sausages,
		     quick-frozen, cannot hold your hand;
the air
	between us is frozen like a board –
		sound hardly travels in such frost.
Grotesque
	and unreal, I am a hoar-frost demon,
		and you, apparently, are the Ice Queen.
Underground
	must I hearken back hastily,
		as you melt away into my past.
The sun
	feebly lights our frosty passions,
		and you melted away in the heat.
Night freezes,
	and I spring up from dark below
		but you are melted to a stump.
It freezes,
	my breath back against my face,
		     back against the wall.

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