Bamboo snapping in the dark. Waking from

winter drowse, dinner of fat shaft death cap

shrooms, to a new weight: a calm, a maelstrom

of ice. The creaking night comes with a slap,

a groan, as if frost would freeze sperm in mid

flight, such stiffness in the air, such sallow

hibernation. Night blows through you, forbids

you heat as the hearth fire dies. Gods send snow

without sleep. Cracks in the ice. Cracks that spew

a chill roast. Cracks that nip you back to bed

with the Dark: polar, hungry, death-dealing

wrong. Dark simply wants, so unlike bamboo

or you: first I bring you awe, then deep dread,

then you cum in the cold, bones shattering.