COLD

born of
icy mud
and sticks
and melded
such that
light and warmth
are holy
and all my prayers
are for fire
and my hunger
for sparks and embers
and my dreams
of desert sand
and rocks too hot to touch
and my want
for someplace warm
that i might pull the heat
from all corners
and wrap myself in it
and my need
for someone to know this icy fate
and hold me anyway
and swaddle me
in arms soft and warm
as morning sun