Rubik's Ice Cube

Put this one together:
The words stick fast.

My eyes communicate volumes,
But nobody looks up,
Let alone in the eyes anymore.

There is a pool in a garden
That once narrated
Beautiful, enchanting tales
Of a bird that died instantaneously
When the pen finally touched the paper:
Fairies reeking of lips held together for too long;
Dragons provoking silver shades into yellow.
They soothe me to chloroform sleep.

The earth rolls over
Often in anguish,
Forgetful of what she was,
Or is, and could be fighting for.

Black knights of the twilight hour
Disregard how the minutes fall away,
Unchecked like the singing cicada
(The only thing I can create
With origami paper).

No, let’s not talk of Time’s icy glaciers.
This lightens things up:
I fall apart, again.

A Winter Afternoon

I allow the book in my hands
to fall softly into my lap
and close.

Mrs. Roth snores lightly
with her lips slightly parted,
giving the wheeze of death
room to breathe.

She stopped listening
two hours ago,
but I continued to read.

The snow outside the window
flutters down to cover the green
grass that strives to withstand
the cold.

A clock on the bright white wall
separates my thoughts into
little ticks and bigger tocks.

A drop of sweat caresses
my brow. The heat is stifling
but Mrs. Roth fears
the thought of freezing
to death.