Some time when I am not so cold
I will have words with you.
I will throw them like red sparks
I will weave them like hot gold.
But now I am too cold.
my tears are icicles before they leave my eyes
my hands shiver apart from my body
my lips blue and twitch against the wind
you assault me like a winter rainstorm
beating with sleet and snow
against my green desire
Some day when summer comes
and there is no shade or hiding place
from white-hot rays and humid breeze,
then I will turn out my store of words
and burn your ice to ash
but now I am too cold.