About the Weather

the ice
cold, creeping
breaks against my skin
bleeds into my lungs
and makes them burn

like a scream
untethered

but it isn’t the weather
not really

the ice
wears boots
and breathes
sanctioned cruelty
into radios

a mocking prayer

procedures and paperwork
and zip ties.

and a little boy
in a bunny hat
begging to go home.