eponym

it was winter when i wrote you ;
crags, rocks, trees, were all black
on white and ice —

ice,
it beat on my door —
slivered on the mattress
sheets of it —
a bedfellow, willing,
eager.

when did the scorpion bring
warm coals to temper the night?
the howl of the moon,
the scorch of the sun —

inside was fire, gurgling.
it was froth and magma.

i heard the tempest, both sea and sky —

faith, they called
it a rock.
a deep,
black,
rock
in ice.

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