Blind with the shadows inked across brambles
of withered, tempered limbs.
Toes held limp across the frozen void
of water, winter’s vehicle.
Crosshatched wisps float, sigh in
wind detached, cold, and unrelenting.
The color white lives on, reflecting acres away
sticking out the woman in red
who, numb from cold, stood still.

Over time, tomb of ice leaked water
of spring and summer’s warmth.
The frost upon her lips, molecules spread
apart, departing, dropping.
Into the lake they fell, one by one as
the seasons drew on.
The woman stood on, her velvet dress
planted firmly upon her pedestal
that, frozen to stone, still stood.

Rachel Kearney is an author based in the southwestern United States. She is currently developing and writing her novel. Look for her recent work in Subliminal Interiors, and forthcoming in Crack the Spine and In Between Altered States.

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