Frosted Bangers

Barren and bare beneath sodden coats

Sunken, hidden, a sedentary print in the snow

At the foot of all those man made roads.

Invisible there, finally, blended into a glowing sky

A corner from which no trailer moans

Periphery only enough to sting my eyes

To open, too shot - to close, too dry.

In the face of many failures, oh, how I have failed

Tears frozen at my corneas, strained and scorched

Down to the wet, irritated nose

Naked, torched, pointed against the frigid winds

Laying there, silently, words at the brim

Of cracking lips too scarred to speak;

Tongue choking on the words not one leers to hear

Convinced of solidarity to the trees that fall on deaf ears.