ice traces

was in December when I began to write

she opened the door
still snowing through the light around close maples

as sadness slipped back on the steps
time going

violent wind in the soul
snow bursting groans from the mouth of a wolf

door closed
behind high night

anywhere in any part I would be placed
I feel in a cage
any change scares me
my heart slide on knee

I look her drowned bodie under clear ice
tracks into one spot deformed

winter passes through old room
I struggled like a yellow butterfly
escaped from the lamp
hanging in the beams

words still retain the sanctity of snow
I look inward

I thought that
I can not draw on the black floor her image

I miss the details of any signs that we passed
from ankle to temples
anxious
very wild
too fast