Monotone

Snowmen. Melting. It stays cold only so long.

We fall asleep in the frost And then we wake up. To these deserts. Our plastic limbs melting. Failing us.

Setting out to right her core. In conditions of below freezing. She lies. Says she has a plan. Beyond her rickety time machine. That has brought her back to here.

Snowmen. Collecting. In icicles on her shivering hands. Feeling for the point on the dagger. As if words can make her strong.

The puddles at her echo fierce. Shyly she confesses her sins. To a round table of gods.

Carefully she shuffles those cards. The world in heavy diaphragms. I can't breathe. But I have. and will remember how. As these wagers rumble on. Erupting volcanoes. Thick clouds of ash. Choking the engines I've yet to start.