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POEM: Iceberg

Iceberg

Night:
James sings “Laid”
on repeat.
Ten minutes, twenty,
half an hour, more.
Searching a dark room
for the sole source of light:
encased in a glistening iceberg,
the carpet wet from melting.
I press my heart to the ice,
feel the cold seep past
my rib cage, hear the cracking.
That snare drum again and again,
the falsetto, his sensuous hands.
Finally an opening;
it fits my arm.
I push in
to the elbow,
the shoulder,
my skin sliding along the ice.
My fingers close
around a tongue of flame.
Still the sound of the guitar.
Still the sound of the guitar.
“This bed is on fire…”
The flames spread up my legs,
to my hips, my chest.
I dance, bare feet
on the ice-cooled carpet.
“This bed is on fire…”
The falsetto, the hands,
the hips, the drums,
the melting of the ice,
the fire.

/ / /

5 February 2023
State College PA

Published in My poems Poetry

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