WIND IN THE ICE CAVE
blows round
my empty heart
spreading through
the ice cave
chilling
even passion’s fire
not stopping
dispersing all emotions
up, down, around
stalactites
breathing into
every vein
chilling (champagne)
in the ice cave
of lost love
bits chip off
quiet
melt
thread thin
silence
CRACK
snapped finished
ENDED
by Janet Brugos, Paris, France 1993