Counting the number of fingers it takes to hold you, meter and all, a ripple the wind cannot emulate though these days the wind chill is twenty-five degrees below zero ---tears never being able to depart, sculptures continuing, our fears? impossible to brush away, for we would need drills the size of asteroids to chip off our teardrops---

^^^ OMG Maryanne...How much emotion straight away...blew me away and I know I won't sleep after this...that imagery...chipping teardrops and oh the addition of temperature and how cold it is...WOW

I am the correct count of rhythms you require, but there are also hidden inches between my fattest fingers that prove dispersion.

Even symmetry can be broken.

^^^ Really clever stanza here. I mean...as writers we like flow and rhythm, its important but sometimes that choppiness is needed once in a while. Yet you talk about it being a problem

And no one's uncovering where love has been lodged inside me-immediate death if I would have taken my clumsy hands to pull it out, but now I can't even find its face, and there was nothing all along.

^^^ You ended so strongly...with the image that everything was your imagination, and it worked well...the use of the stake and how it keeps you alive, without it you would bleed to death.

Amazing...I can't get enough of your poetry Maryanne.

X

Wow!! I am in love with this!! It's brilliant although it's very sad. The first stanza is my favourite. Especially the last line. The imaginary and thoughts in this hurt my heart. I can only hope you're ok. Well done.

Danika.