In this winter of frozen tongues
we hibernate in our pain
clutching matches while last words
layer frost on unrepentant.
Chilled by accusations we watch
hours drift across the clock trapping us
in a silent world with little hope of rescue.
Each of us holds the matchstick word
to melt the ice, but neither will usher in
spring’s thaw by uttering, “forgiven.”
©Susie Clevenger 2015