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by Z.M. Wise


In the coldth,
standing trial,
plead no contest in the
Tundra of Origins!

Arctic shores,
a pleasure to be around.
Subzero heart, beating and
crackling like the fires we
thought we created.

A desert of snow,
wind trumpets blow.
A fair tutor to Old Man Winter,
sharing his crystal method visions with us
when that silver lightning hits the exterior rim.

In the coldth,
swimming with unused bile,
believe yourself back to the
Control Panel of Ages!

Diving under the depths,
war time in the North.
Forts have been built and destroyed
out of vain recognition.

With polar production in our grasp,
we will sail across lovely frozen oceans,
damning the rest to Hades.
This was all his doing.

Another year has come and gone.
Another queen betrayed and demoted to pawn.

In the coldth,
no one to share body heat with,
we succumb to the numb and
ingest indescribable ice.

We feel a storm a-soundin’.
Right from the bottom of frozen bones,
we reminisce of Siberia.
From the Russian land of tigers,
Western worlds are freaked in Alaska.

When North America has descended,
we shall reminisce of Greenland.
Rising up from chilled goodness,
we breathe artificial air on Everest.
When room temperature obliterates,
we will be reminiscing in Antarctica.

In the coldth,
with an irreparable sun dial,
time holds no grudge against
the ones who think nothing of temporary mentality. 

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