Holding An Icecube

I'm holding a little artic world in my hand
its asphyxiated life shrinks and drips, counting down the minutes to apocalypse
Is this the pain a god feels?
that dull ache within my fingers
Does our own world sere some tortured deity's hand
with the heat of its breathing fires?

by Anastasia Clarke

Comments (1)

It's amazing how everything, if you think about it enough, is sad. Wonderful poem.