TUNDRA
Tempests of stallions stomp and gallop
through the bleak biome of soul, on which
there is nothing to feed.
Fatigue clutches the bones
like rabid packs of rats
gnawing on things eons gone.
The desolation is magnificent
in its cataclysmic finality.
Alas, ready am to be rid of both
sleek and niggling creatures
marauding night and day
like libidinous lovers
whom there is no displeasing,
and robbing me of eternal hibernation;
for this is what I, ever timorous
of true denouments, desire --
no food, no warmth, no companion:
dear darkness alone.
What to do about that demon, Spring,
I would not know.
copyright Julianza Shavin
painting by Julianza Shavin
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Regis
Having fibromyalgia and degenative disc disease/osteoarthritis, I know ... feel frozen in place by pain. Some days I can hardly move, it hurts so bad. Aptly, brilliantly penned, your Tundra is mine, as well. Well done.
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.