A Lake Frozen Over

Andrea Bustillo (she/he/they)

From your chest
there’s a hint of a ripple,
a dip in the ice and snow.

Your hands reach out,
icicles ready to sting, 
to stab,
yet with one touch
you shatter --
you bleed 
rapids into the basin,
filling the ground.

Oh, how still
is your frozen cavern,
shivering through its attempts to beat?