He took a chill pill as directed.
His fury froze splitting painfully,
instantly frostbitten insides as
his eyes and mind grew cold
as ice, and twice that cold. He
became like unto an ice sculpture,
except opaque with blood, with organs
rimed inside with frost, and slightly
moving. Breathing. His skin still
warm. To each appearance human,
and no deception. Everyone eased
and breathed, as he grew implacably
courteous. None of them could tell
on the inside, teeth clicked in gears
grinding up to smooth whir, blades
were sharpening, everything
was ice.
A Pocketful of Poesy was and is again a Poem-a-Day(-on-Average) Blog! For 2009, 2010, 2011, 2012, and now for 2017 and going forward, you may expect to see 365 poems every year, 366 for leap years.
but aren't they all random?
Tuesday, September 07, 2021
ice pill
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