A house built with ice
Sits frozen on what could be
A familial street
Those that reside inside
Wish for warmth
But instead given
Cold glances and are
Forced to look past the
Barbed wire that
Entangles the front porch and
Stretches before the doorway
Where a house mat tries to
Welcome in guests that are
Never allowed past the corridor
Careful breaths are taken and
Held in, only to be released
Seeing each molecule of
Gas float and disappear in an instant
It takes so long to breathe but
Seconds to remind us that we walk a
Thin cable between living
And just making it by
But sometimes breathing inside of
This wasteland of
Tundra bricks and mortar
Is the only thing that stops the patients from
Losing what is left of their minds
Still, they forget they have
Slippery tongues and they
Accidentally allow
Ungrateful words, regrettably exchanged
Icicles that hang
Shatter like the
Broken bits of inhabitants,
Those that sit and wait
Wondering what will set off a
Fire that aims to burn down
The ice-house
Burning, it melts
Goodhearted laughs
Board games and clean dishes
No matter—it can be put out
With a headshake and
A whisper,
“What’s the point of going on”
Bile rises in two or maybe three throats
But no one can release the tension
They hold inside every half-hour
The ice always returns
Unbreakable and surviving
With elements of
Pretend prayers and frozen water and
Flames that can be put out by
Tears of twelve-year-olds and
Closed doors that no key can open
The prisoners shiver silently
And hope that one day they
Can destroy the ice that
Has been attempting to hold
Everyone together