Poetry
Frostburn
Kiri Winder
issue two.
The frigid voice is gone,
But not the words engraved,
In an unloved mind.
She has a thirst for justice,
And he is soaked with fear,
Ready for her bite.
Hiding under blankets, desperation
concealed, the weight of her words
grew into ice, sticking to skin.
Keeping cold with stiff limbs,
his frozen canvas kept a disgrace,
with no chance of change.
He was asked,
why he never left, he spoke
with a chill breath “I had no choice”
With the frost in his eyebrows
cheeks freshly thawed, his mind still frozen
From the day she spoke the frigid words
About the Author
Kiri is a first year PhD student specializing in children’s literature and the fantasy genre. Upon completing her MA this year, she enjoys writing creative pieces in her free time, namely about the value of studying humanities and life in academia.
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