Snow dunes

The wind outside howls at work carving

snow dunes floating asymmetrical shapes 

unshrouding the lifeless swallow trapped in the folds

freezing my breath to icicles hanging,

moments away from shattering to bits. 

Quieting other sounds.

Can this frosty silence freeze my feeling of

numbness not from the ultra cold but all the

hurt of those who professed love of sorts

from what seems now like another world and time?

I don’t need sleep but a state of stupor to still

the whispers I hear.

Short days with listless light and a brooding lull 

a cue for me to retire early into those 

dark recesses to wage a battle. 

Kill it or sign a covenant to be deaf

if they persist since they’re just half dead

Because I am not a good killer, never was.