Issue 118, Spring 1991
I am so cold tonight. Lend me your fever
to mull my long pastures of crumbling ice.
Warm the jagged mountains in my spine
that now shiver with cold. I will lie still as statuary.
I will hang my white lantern across your gaze
so you may see it shining, feel its sudden glow,
use it to construe the dark corners of your life.
As you wade through my snowy limbs,
it will fill you with wonder. True, I will hurl you
hard against your nerve, till your colors flare
like an aurora in the open arms of the sky.