HomecomingGretchen Tessmer ever anxious, I peer through rimy glass using the heel of my hand to smudge out the inscrutable runes of frost patterns wailing winds sob at the sill, as I wrap myself in wool and recollect those weather-resistant arms of yours wistful for warm kisses pressed against palms and temples, instead feeling only cold and aching flesh pine-fire snaps with flame licking shadow-puppets onto cedar walls the moldy logs of this dilapidated cabin we reclaimed, as two fugitives in flight from cannibal cities the bone-saw blizzard went long, too long the weather chewing up so many and spitting them out one by one, I shiver on the thought of survivors (can we call them that?)
still hunkered down in gangrenous apartments eating the last of their rotten fruit sandwiched between slices of old shoe leather all through our escape, your steady whispers kept me sane-- “you are safe, you are safe” and you say it again now, through iced breath at my ear but how can I believe such pretty, pretty words? when ghosts are not to be trusted |
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