Sunday, 28 October 2012

Jack Frost

Jack Frost

The Winter King

He is this year’s winter king,
a solitary sorrow, a sacrifice of spring.

A cold, hard fire, a boundless stream,
of heedless yearning and hallowed dreams.

Ignites, she writhers in a breathless trance, 
wild and shimmering in a sacred dance. 

He breaks her, blinds her, burns her sin,
 then weaves her gently beneath his skin.

Seizes a moment of her naked soul,
 carves her heart, and makes her whole.

A poem in birth, she is a fevered light,
 captured and claimed in the winter night.

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