Somewhere between the frozen layers sleeps a fragile woman. Waiting for her
husband to remove the shards of glass. The sun betrays the light that it
once shed. And daughter cuts the hair. Tangled in a silver brush. Spitting
at a broken mirror. I feel the movement of ghosts in the room. She keeps a
photograph locked in her mouth. The smell of turpentine drips from the
walls. Forgive and forget. Relive and regret. You're not alone. I've seen
the dead arise. The ice will someday thaw and she will wait no more.