You were the one who asked me to meet you in the frozen lake, swimming under the gleaming sheet of ice, looking up at distorted shadows and distant birds. The temperature is fine once you get used to it and if you hold your breath for long enough you can turn into a mermaid. But you aren't here like you said you'd be and I'm waiting, drifting amidst sleeping fish and rock hard reeds and suddenly I am desperately alone and impossibly cold.
Annette Greenaway
No comments:
Post a Comment