HOLES

there are holes
big as fists
where the wind whistles
through

what am i
supposed to do with that?

in summer
Ra holds me
like a baby,
rocks me in his
silver arms
and i am
his mirror,
glowing
like a god,
holy
as jesus,
swaddled
in warmth

i am orphaned
in winter,
lonely for heat,
that bitch's
grey lips
like frost on
my bones,
sucking at
the marrow