02-02-2026, 02:37 AM
(This post was last modified: 02-02-2026, 02:56 AM by RiverNotch.)
Frost across the slab
that we keep for a threshold,
meshes of long knives
that shutter panes of glass,
and these despite the silver
but a quarter of the way
between steam and sleet,
between sleep and dinner---
I blame the moon.
that we keep for a threshold,
meshes of long knives
that shutter panes of glass,
and these despite the silver
but a quarter of the way
between steam and sleet,
between sleep and dinner---
I blame the moon.