Ridge Fingers

My hands are cold
The ice has made them inflexible
The bones that hold the meat
Also support the ice
If you break the ice
You decapitate my finger
But we both know the finger
Is dead

Death is not respectable
I understand

Close your eyes
I see your fridge shudder
I know the draw of the curtains
But I am frozen in the
Freeze

If you bend my fingers
They will break off
Into the no more
This was the hand that held yours
That blotted your tears
That caressed you

That loved you