Crevices bursting with frost

Trees curl their aching roots

As hail stabs the soil.


Sink into the arm-chair

My child

Choke on smoke of decomposing wood.

You must rest

Nowhere for you to go tonight, the

Fog has swallowed your path.


Wounds preserved with time

Plaster will be your only sky, the

Cracks are stars.

Stay and think

And use your imagination

And whispers will learn to shout

And life will penetrate your skull

And grow beautiful from the compost

As the door shuts.