She turns to words
and they turn on her-
And in that deafening silence,
it was too serene
to make a scene.
Paper froze
on her
and condensed its icy pulp
into a dull reflective surface
whereby sharp-windows-
the squinted eyes
circled in hoarfrost
which blurred
the edges
of a thousand panes,
simply knowing these as
thin margins between
virginal definitions
making lighter
inside-out.
Painting by Maurice Cullen, 'Moret, Winter' c. 1895 in Public Domain.
Painting by Maurice Cullen, 'Moret, Winter' c. 1895 in Public Domain.
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