Wanted: Seer of Ice
I.
Wanted: Seer of Ice,
Free from Time's liquor,
and worth all of this pain,
I thought I'd tell you:
Going home today.
Stepped in a puddle of unreal blue,
it ate up my leg
like a factual disease
we're never taught to pronounce.
It made a home of my leg
and froze me there.
Getting ice cream from the truck
doesn't taste like fun anymore.
Having a bounty that is stuck
doesn't compose musically, nor
when I love mixing my aching joints
and fear-furthering stereo
into my Nintendo beanie
with a hole in it from '05,
when we were a family that didn't succumb
to the true tune of the world; imbibe,
and when, in the middle of this winter past,
my 11th chance passed away, an icicle butterfly
glittering serenely and nostalgically,
its death pure beauty; each new melt better than the last
like darkness lurching beyond noon's laughter,
when I held her,
I did not actually hold eternity,
I held the world of snow
that now has sic'd a bliz on our happy mem'ries to gather,
O Conundrum,
you replaced so well
the spirit of the death knell
that blackest June did sell.
II.
Two clocks are frozen, their second hands
tick
back and forth
in the same spot,
Limbo; Oblivion.
I picked you up, then,
Seer of Ice.
I wanted to talk to you,
but I can only hear you in my head,
and cry out in vain to an image
that tells me my own answers.
In the ol' photograph scene, I, an infant,
stare up at you, and you quell my tears.
You were a Seer,
so you knew of our future--our now--
and froze yourself in Time.
I never knew you truly,
or why you divorced,
or what you knew of true love.
You never knew that I'd grow up
to become a Seer of Darkness.
I take the clocks down off the wall
and re-energize them
with the batteries of lonely, twilit factories,
and the lingering magic
from the power you still have
from within your grave, fading,
only leads me to name a price:
Wanted: Seer of Ice
Copyright © Richard H. Dunsany | Year Posted 2017
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