haunted poems

You left me here
alone
jailed within the walls of my own skin
Every morning searching for
a trail of breadcrumbs
that would lead the blind to the
ocean side

There is no summer solstice for me
Frozen here in the northern hemisphere
I wait with cold hands, cold feet
Every morning expose them to the bitter wind
–that I might catch a ray of you

The ocean tides are strangers
to this part of the planet
The icebergs keep the waves from getting
any foolish notions
Cold limbs of an expectant body
become fixed in the surrounding climate
erasing defining lines
that were once carved by you