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.
Copyright © Richard Allen | Year Posted 2023
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment