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.

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.