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Cloak

1940
Tue, 5 May 2009 at 06:31pm

untitled

An ice-dappled path lies beneath my soles. Soft, damp flakes and twinkles of light ready to scorn the marrow that creaks under milk-white cells. But I’m too premature for this new earth. The speckled sleet whispers insults in my ear as I’m hurled towards the path’s fractured skull. The second I surrender to the track of cracking ice, my backbone is saved and cradled by a warm, hushed sigh, breathed slow onto bones that once convulsed with the frore and the cold. Twinkles of ice no longer threaten my life. Instead, a snowman follows me, and there’s a twinkle in his eye when he’s busy warming my skin.