By Tala Fehsel
Cold trickles down the sides of my heart like thawing meat,
dripping its way from top to bottom
in a display of cryogenics
just beneath my breastbone
It aches slightly, numb from anesthesia.
The warmer it gets
the faster it melts
the faster it smells
the faster it spoils and rots
Becoming food for swarming insects.
Catch me quick, and freeze me again—
Let me grow frigid and stiff against warm fingers
Let the frost draw ferns across ventricles
and trap me back inside.
Twenty years believing I was stone only to find myself flesh instead
condensation moist as dew,
across my sternum.
I have been waiting, without knowing it.
I have been waiting.
I am alive.