top of page
mien.
On Ice
Vivian Wagner
Wind gusts from glaciers
through sanded streets.
Ice says spring’s not here,
not yet, maybe not ever,
but ice has never been good
at seeing its own demise.
On Ice: Text
bottom of page
mien.
Vivian Wagner
Wind gusts from glaciers
through sanded streets.
Ice says spring’s not here,
not yet, maybe not ever,
but ice has never been good
at seeing its own demise.