Ice

A copper gloria of Pre-Raphaelite hair
Encased in the ice of the frozen mere
(She must have floated here…from where?
Perhaps the feeder stream over there.)

The copper bounds a shadowy blue face
Her eyes are open, frozen in place
Icy orbs staring at empty space
How did she get there, in her tomb of ice?

Can you feel me? I stand at your side
Colder than the cold of my cold, cold abode
I can hear your thoughts, wondering how I died:
An accident, a murder or perhaps suicide?

It happened the morning before the freeze had begun
When I found the letters, the money, the gun
I confronted my love when he came through the door
“What’s this? And what’s that? And what’s this here for?”

He looked left and right, to the ceiling and floor
He looked angry, sad, worried, scared and cocksure
A long pregnant pause, “It’s not what it seems”
“I’ll tell you exactly what it all means”

“Let’s go for walk, to get some fresh air”
“And I’ll explain everything so you’ll have nothing to fear”
So I wrapped up warm against the gathering chill
And we walked to the stream in the woods down the hill.

At that place, you know, where the path rises up high.
He hugged me tight, with a tear in his eye,
“It’s like this…,” he sighed and started to tell,
Then he pushed hard, I slipped and, helpless, I fell.

The icy cold water was high and in spate
And hitting my head on a rock sealed my fate
Dead or alive at that point, I am really not clear
As the deeply chilled torrent bore me into the mere.

And the deep freeze came later that very same day
To secure this deathly, icebound display
I hope you can hear me, my discoverer, and I pray
That you seek out my lover and make the man pay!