buried in the ice groves

buried in the ice groves

she cried cold
and grew me
we stayed and swayed
hungry and stale
skin sloughing off
dripping like candle wax

we were ice bones
stamped red with your mark
sent and buried so very 
deep under the bathroom tiles
to thaw
to bleed into the dirt
to be mud
and be one with other mud

we were skeleton puppets
covered in bark
dancing for your clumsy  tipsy
on me  see me
finger tips

our glass doll eyes
hide the deep groves
of broken bathroom tiles

he can t find where he
buried us
no soft ground to dig in

you tap  tap  tap on our eyes
with questing finger nails
all you get are
cold clinks
no more blinks

our eyelids sit
in your empty beer cans

play hide and seek in glass cages
now you see me
now you re drunk
as near death as you wished
trembling  on the floor
6 feet from your bed



she screams at you quiet
words full of dirt
her voice is gravel traveled
by the feet of the weary

still we seep out from the fractures at dawn
from our glass
from our groves
from our frozen  broken tiles

we free our tongues from your pockets
dusty with lint and loss

and pile  tuck  and pile quilts over your shivers
until your pores gasp desperate breaths
looking for the trees you cut down
that air to cool you

we pile more quilts

you don t get to be chilly
or cold or cool
or even shiver
that is ours
and mine

it s all that s left of her