Time Is Cold

I struggle with time,
a man paralyzed
by desires unyielding
to form

No matter how time
is delivered, its entrails
are all I can make out
at night

Time could be snow
delivered in blizzards
and still I’d hold this
empty shovel

Time could be steel
with its bars all around me
and I wide open to night
in its prison

Time could be ice
like a glacier retreating
to the volcano from which
it once dragged me

But time stays unknown
as the world becomes old
and all that I know:
Time is cold.