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Briefly clean, soft-plosive, yielding.
I wake at dawn to edgeless light,
Breathe in a vast, pre-conscious, grey-white wrong.
Snow ploughs grind attrition-war.
Bright tender mountains, marshaled back by force.
My limbless movements, severed,
Start the groping day in solitude once more.
Time passes, and geography is altered.
The filthy crags have vitrified to quartz.
All streets and sidewalks narrowed, ice-scars deepened.
The prospect of a thaw.