Thaw

Heat melting icy bones
Can't blame
far northern winds
for these layers of frost

This winter began
long ago

Believed fallow earth
had nothing to produce
But its fissured maw
is opening,
begging for rain

Lips of dirt are softening
under the thaw,
becoming pliant

Beneath rivulets of
rushing snow,
skin is shifting,
a belly clenches in hunger

Hungry, again
Forever


Even beneath frozen tundra,
hunger waited

But how to feed such flesh?
How to fill up empty bones
and discarded veins?
Pour water into cracked, cold earth,
for what?

A field of flowers on this patch of dirt?
 Build a house?
Raise a family, to tumble and grow amongst weeds?

To what end does this winter end?

Pale, breathing flesh
uncovered
Slushing ice a thin layer
between skin and sky

To what end?

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