Arctic Summer

It falls upon me, the fever At the frozen heart of summer Crested with sweat, I shiver While the callous sun commits murder Only I know how to feel the cold Alone in repose with the temperature It knows me too, that glacial gloom Entombed with my frigid, wistful shadow Oh, I feel my heart slow The sludge in my veins, the color Of a blighted rose Flighted with snow That misbegotten flower Seeded in spring with blind hope By a longing, lustful gardener This is the way of things: Any season can be cruel The winds may flay me in July The ice of August knows no rule When in mourning’s climes I lie A frost shall set upon This lonely, bitter fool