Treestand

Wake up before dawn, 

when color does not exist. 

The faint light makes the room grey.

Living inside a lens. 

Distorted mind on waking, 

the floor icy on feet, 

Unclean on skin, 

Hair on end, discomfort. 

What is warmth?

Sightless, groping for doors. 

Ice on iron on hand. 

Pull and plunge, windowless corridor— 

fingers along walls, peeling wallpaper and 

the smell of books. Damp books. 

Breathing clouds indoors, miserable mist. 

Body becomes a long,

bottomless ache,

Refusing to subside. 

Shuddering— 

Painfully silent air. 

Everlasting last season, 

An occupied deathbed. 

Guarantee me the earth will tilt. 

Move.