~ a winter window

weakly thrashing, bony limbs
under the ministrations
of a light which provides no heat.

frozen rain falls steadily
bitter weeping melting flat white knives
into the tools i will use to stay alive
when all the tears are gone.

watching the weak, half-hearted
tossings and
turnings of a
slow, cold

c. Mary Kathryn Gough, Feb 13, ’05, edit Nov 16, ’11

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