Ice

from this pollex of frostbite
nails turn blue along the
rivers running between
pale sin that grows grey
as the hedges of burning
frost bloom;
bouquets of white crystal flowers
sparkling with the vengeance
of a deadened winter rose,
doomed to be forever enclosed
in this frozen case of
glass; that reflects the face
of the woman-child who

stares

back at me

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