Hiding in the shadows

Searching for the cast light,

Trying to remember what warmth feels like.

Two blankets and a sun in Alaska..

Am I stuck or reaching new limits

with my frozen tongue and sunburned eyes?

Brisk air of conventionality,

are you hot or cold?

Life or death?

I ask this as the sun sets and my finally rest —

in hopes the morning

my tongue will have thawed


eyes will be struck with clarity.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.