On many bitter winter days
she is what picks at my thoughts
she is what surges through my fingertips
teasingly
softly
slowly


During many darkened afternoons
she surrounds me with an unforgiving presence
around my bedchambers
in my heart
in my soul


When the eventide is evident in the sky
she is the earsplitting static
that grazes over my ears
that resonates throughout
my being


In the early bright of day
she fastens herself to me soundly
like the skin
that I am in
like the sweat during
a Spanish heat


During the restless day
she is the eagerness
she is the unrelenting spirit
that is me
she is my battered self
she is my demise