Ice

It’s stretched thin,
like how I imagine water feels
when it is frozen too quickly;
as a whole, just a cube of cold matter, slightly larger than it was,
something perfect for hot, Early September in the South West,

on closer inspection, this water is screaming from expansion,
swollen beyond recognition by
fellow molecules.
but only closely
only when
you
look close enough to see
the long expanse of cracks that run the point where it all started to freeze
jumping small spaces and bringing
themselves slowly to a central point of
cool

it’s spread thin like that,
and I want you to see how closely the cracks run, parallels from another time,
a time gripped and dripping in drugs and control,
or lack thereof,
what I’m finding solace in,
even thinking of it now,
is placing the icecube of myself into a lewis bag,
crushing it into a
time sensitive, three dimensional
jigsaw puzzle,
and solving
nothing.

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