Ghazals of the Wintertime: II
I am lost in the fox’s fur,
bleeding from the white spikes, and shivering.
Amidst the snarling beasts and curs,
I hear only the light chime of your laugh. And I’m shivering.
Cast down from blistering heights
into the cold, empty void; shivering.
As I grasp at the flesh of life,
your eyes shimmer against the stars. And I’m shivering.
Phantom rocks silently float,
fallen prey to a crystal sickness, shivering.
Under the stare of forlorn ghosts,
your bold light flies. And I’m shivering.