fist famine in the ice box
where the ear flap hats and
rusted tin whistle tombs
ever after frost-framed faces
the color of very chilled blood
echo singular clapping
through institutional hallways

try to look to you
if we see i can go on
in this dark unquiet place
then i smile and
look at those eyes
we make good partners in crime
you and i
but you be strong
don't stand up to be counted