Blanks

At times there’s relief in the cold brush of indifference

When nobody watches [_] melt beneath the loose, pale grip of dusk,

To find peace in the crush of eiderdown snow,

Where [_] do not/does not/will not know

the length of stay.

Extremities rupture in syrupy-blue drips,

[_] limp(s) fluidly at the occasional twitch

Of still-lukewarm joinery.

Distance kneads away, further and deeper

Softly churning into the bitter slush

And setting into the glacial crust.

[_] never wanted this.

[_] didn’t ask.

Yet [_] ebb(s) away, metre by metre,

In stoic resignation.

Legs drift one way… …arms idly the other,

[_] shrink(s) into the protective curl of compacting vertebrae

And befriends the fossilising balm below,

Now entrapped and embryonic.

The loneliest [_]’ll ever be,

The happiest [_]’ll ever know.