Icicles sleep beneath my fingernails,
Their breath weaving through the molecules of my skin
In and out of my pores until their web is tattooed
With light and glitter and snow,
Shooting, tearing, burgeoning its way
Towards my heart.
Injected with cold
I walk barefoot and raise my fingers to
Welcome the Wind into my palm.
My hair and lips are kissed with snowflakes
Who settle in to their nest.
Long as the frosted branches that are bowing down to me
I begin to glide and dance and fly.
There is no escape from what was meant to be Home.
I tried to lie amongst the flowers and become one
With the waters warmed by the sun.
I tried to dream of Summer.
The Ice in my ribs had other plans.