that heart is not beating
merely shivering
quivering
in icy fear,
imp of impossible frights
and ignorant oddities
shaking in its boots—a cage
of ribs hard as sin
cold as shoulder
turned hard, tilted
toward terror
willfully gloomy—why?
not feel the fire
fetch the sun
from the father, farther
farther
fountains of light
flurries of flame
flickering bodies in the night
striding, guiding
passing, swaying
surrounded
compounded
cold’s comfort
come farther
fans fanning flame
speak the Name.
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