Though the days still carry our
Memories of Summer, nights
Now promise elseness.  

Inside, parts of my confused
Self long for icy blue skies,
Air so crisp you can

Crunch it between your
Teeth and your love
For Norway.

Other parts long for the
Midsummer sun of a body
Chasing anything arctic

Away with the swift brush
Of a slim hand finding
A face it loves

In the dark. Arctic. Ice blood.
Snow flesh. Wanting nothing;
None closer than

Outside.
I don't want to love right now.
Just to get snowed in alone,

Hoping for the sound of
A shovel, yet wishing it would
Miss my heart

By the breadth of a hairline
Fracture in
Something frozen

**** well
Nearly solid, yet
Breathing;

Basking in
Sub-zero
Solitude.