I want the grounds
of sapphire dirt
to stay cold,
to weep warm tears
and dry like crying ice,
to match my burning insides.
how you made art
with the smoke
that came out
of your bitter mouth
gave me
chills,
even when the melting grounds
kept me
cold.

I want the dirt
Of dusty grounds
To stay cold,
And stay broken,
Rubble and all.
Because the broken
Are beautiful
And I need the broken to
Help
Heal
The fever,
That is in me.

A dying extinguisher
To placate the
Stabbing knives
Of ice
That pierced my
Thin skin.
Cold pine needles
To rest on my forehead to
Help
Heal
The fever,
That is in me.

I want to melt
In freezing ice,
Ice broken
And chopped
And dusted
Onto brown earth
So I don’t feel as
Broken
As I really am.
So I don’t need
Cold pine needles
Or dying extinguishers
Or the broken
to
help heal
the fever,
that is
actually,
me.