Poetry

Ice Maiden

She drinks in the river and lets the ice settle in her heart,

enclosing the fire they want to steal away.

They’re gasping, gasping for their lives,

but she thinks not, should have left the cradle be.

She ignores the red blood, the blue

for hers is deep green and never runs dry.

Hers is the proud tears of mothers watching their babes grow,

the sound laughter as they sever her veins.

Poetry

Hidden Breath

You once told me

you could grasp a pool of water

in your hands

without a single drop

slipping through,

but you never

explained

that the trick

to it

was to freeze the water

first.

It’s a simple thing to leave

out, I understand.

Yet I cannot help

wondering

what other details

you’ve lost

along the way.