calling from the cold
poetry response to Trisha Traughber’s prompt “balance”
in reception amongst the expanse
amidst the light
with a silent audience
icy fingers
shuttered breath
endlessly in time
where tears don’t fall anymore
despite your indifference
I stand alone
with hope
out of reach
calling from the cold
weightless without tether
or misplaced attraction
I preached your name
through the expanse
naked skin —
isolation-numbed
gravity swallowed
everything whole
yet I remained
floating above
cracked conduits
not knowing
fire is where
home is.