i am just a hole on a needle’s eye
hardly can hold me the thread of life
facile, fluent ,silk of spider web
like a leaf’s faint, distant nerves
curtain-shallow ice-membrane
who cases the november mere.
I am the salt in teardrops
the mordant dazzling white cold
a stinging frost pin on the ground
step on me, starts bleeding your foot
I don’t want to hurt but I do.
your blood’s warm embraces me
-but doesn’t make me living.
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