By Christopher Caldwell
You promised me
The Whole World and a new pair of skates.
(The wheels were rusty, the key didn't fit.)
Oh, your kisses
Soft as snowflakes, cold like lake water.
(A danger of hypothermia.)
I look into your eyes,
Eyes the color of glaciers or cut glass,
And I wonder,
If I were to reach across this table
(Deep as a gulf)
And slash your throat with my dessert knife,
Would I be rewarded with a slow trickle of anti-freeze?
(Or, do you too bleed? Afterall)