The Iceman
The room is as chill as a iced Stella Artois,
His eyes chipped emeralds, ice-buried, shifting, beady, paranoid, greedy.
Ignoring my mute plea, he reads American poetry.
And when he turns a page, a page turns in my heart.
"Let us have a cup of lapsang souchong and chat"
The screech of my voice fades to frozen air
As if he isn't truly there.
And if I cry the tears will freeze on my raw cheek.
Crystals form in my marrow
My heart chills, stills
Turned into ice by the ice man.
Hannah Borno