I wake up by the space heater, early morning
still shivering cold, the sheet of ice under my skin
unmelted, unwavering,
as I stand, the blood in my face
drips down to my thighs,
until all I taste is copper, on the tip of my tongue
at the tip of the iceberg, as if sucking on pennies,
chipping my icecube teeth on the edges
my temples, like dropping pans in the kitchen
and a cobweb of veins, taking my vision
piece by piece
pumping, exploding
my breath, an arctic breeze,
and I would burst into tears, if not for
the saltwater collecting in my ankles
but furthermore, my hair falls out in chunks,
drifting like shredded paper, shedding
like the lining of my stomach,
crawling under my eyelids, the color of frostbite
and as it hits the tile, the sound echoes
through my universe,
my eardrums ringing like rotary telephones
by the minute, pounds of straw collect
at my feet, my toenails cracking like eggshells,
my skin peeling back
as if tobacco-stained wallpaper.
