Ice Queen

Icicles dripped from your eyelashes, breaking your ebony skin so slightly.
I wondered if you could feel it.

A growl like glaciers scraping against each other set my teeth on edge.
I must remember that I am a lioness.

You threw the biting wind at me, tearing at my offensive porcelain skin.
I angled my chin defiantly and bared my teeth.

You poured nitrogen down my throat, making me swallow every last drop.
It burned like fire, blistering my calm.

Snow swirled around you as if you commanded it, but it is only an illusion.
You control nothing.

Don’t forget.


I woke with ice behind my eyes
and dust beneath my tongue
and pebbles in my bones.

The bitterness of the morning seeped
into my mouth and agonizingly dragged
itself down my efflorescing throat.

I reached over to borrow some oxygen
from you, but found only sharpened
icicles and cobwebs long since abandoned.