Surrounded by an aura of
Radiant star-warmed air
Giving off steam like wispy hairs
I can almost hear my solid, frozen bones
Sizzle and crack in the light of the morning sun
On this nearly winter morn
I am observably colder than
The November silence
Holding me hostage
A hoary frost patch starts to form
On an exposed portion of skin
Steadily growing
Crystalizing fabric and flesh alike
Gloves and coat offer no protection
Swaddling grown cold and stiff
Hardening my thin pink shell
Until I resemble nothing more than
A raspberry Sourpatch Kid
Pulled from the car cushions
And gleefully shattered by
A bored child on the cement
Swept away, on an icy wind
K.B. Silver
About the Creator
K.B. Silver
K.B. Silver has poems published in magazine Wishbone Words, and lit journals: Sheepshead Review, New Note Poetry, Twisted Vine, Avant Appa[achia, Plants and Poetry, recordings in Stanza Cannon, and pieces in Wingless Dreamer anthologies.
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