ICE Storm (January 24, 2026)
We are promised
A lack of power,
A blizzard to lock our frenzy
Behind our doors.
But not yet have the first flakes fallen;
The whiteout terror only looming.
The street afront the library
Is filled with lines of tanks.
I know not if they will protect me
Or side with the others,
The masked ones, the black goons,
The snow-mad wolves.
Or perhaps it is merely
To clear the coming drifts.
I know not why they circle,
But I see which families
Clutch their children,
And which wave gleeful
At a surprise parade.
I know also
That the cold wolves killed today.
And what separated us?
What distance from him to me?
A thousand miles,
A breath, a prayer;
His heartbeat stopped,
My heartsblood freezing
In the ice of the butcher's field.