I’ll split the hairs, I’ll split an atom And never leave the bedroom. I most identify with December, Not because of the crushing temperature But the lack of cosmic dawdling Is no more mesmerizing than a frozen phoenix.
And as she arrives by train from Phoenix, I study who she appears to be, the atoms Composing her auburn hair with dawdling Authenticity shout “Take me to the bedroom!” While the wedge of geese in this temperature Head to the Southern Hemisphere’s December.
The common chill of this morning in December Prevents us from rising from out the covers like a phoenix, And our blankets like ash defend us from the temperature That stills the vibrations of the atmosphere’s atoms. I curse the insulated walls of the bedroom, Trapping in heat and discouraging our dawdling.
A rafter of turkeys outside my window are dawdling, Printing their runes on the documents of December Between the thickets surrounding the bedroom While the sun, golden like the plumage of a phoenix, Awakens in my bones every dormant atom, Instilling in me courage to brave the temperature.
I follow her, dressed, from the bedroom And her footsteps serve to punctuate the temperature Like the smoldering beak of a phoenix Too busy being risen for dawdling. She leaves, by train through the chill of December, Me daydreaming of fission. The splitting of an atom.
I’ll split an atom daily, safely within the bedroom And sleep through December’s pitiless, hollow temperature, Waking only for dawdling until Spring is a phoenix.