It's the cold light I can barely bear
in this frigid, frozen moment,
endlessly hovering
atop the white wastes,
a cold, yellow blotch
behind a veil of wispy clouds,
every part of the landscape
bright, cold, slicing
through this life
the light that has no more warm
than a son who wouldn't go
to hear the doctor declare
death to his mother.
09.02.2021
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