The Glacier in My Bones

Nothing
will ever melt
these ice-cube eyeballs
into tears—
beaming tips
of glacial rage
jutting from
hollow sockets.

These snowmen—
homogeneous,
frozen stiff
within my bones—
each a homonym
of white icebergs:
blank, vast,
monuments
to the cost
of chill violence.

This arctic indifference:
a frostbite faith,
an elegance
of silence.

The ice-burn scars
etching my imperfect face
into
perfection.