just heat

ice man

i wanted to melt that block

smouldering our bodies could have transformed

your frozen nature

one last time

though denied continuously

through years, men and tears

i have full knowledge of desire

(ripped from men at early age)

to enhance, create, nurture

and to say good-bye

(women wash the dead)

i deny no longer

my arms were ready to be empty

(a condition heart and womb accepted long ago)

but...

after a few hours of good-bye love

my mind chose so carefully

for a man worth his word

another faery story to be shelved

among the volumes of ruined dreams

oh yes, ice man... librarians do more than read

note the texture of a rain drenched lawn

gentle and resilient

setting earth perfume

and patchouli

adrift on the wind

oh, so naive ice man

to think a woman trained

to tie loose ends

in other's thoughts

could smile without the cycles completion

fare thee well

naive, my good man, an anthropologist too

rituals, metaphor, meaning

(women wash the dead)

no flowers

no promises

no good-byes

just heat from the ice man

Nancy Faye Hill

copyright 1984 -2001

all rights reserved