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,

    as sweat,

    across my sternum.


I have been waiting, without knowing it.

I have been waiting.

I am alive.