Poetry

Fragile chamber

Cold is the taste of your heart when it’s been locked up for too long.

Chisel it out, careful, careful

and throw it on the fire.

Don’t worry, it won’t burn.

Watch it thaw,

see the flame-hands nurse it back

squeezing out the poison haunting your veins.

Take it from them.

Firm grip now,

and push it back in place.

You’ll get used to it – it won’t always be heavy.