The Unlikely Icicle
︎︎︎ Eva Zimet
︎ June 10, 2021
Outside my window in winter that still
freezes things, there are icicles.
On some warmer days, they drip
in the sunlight. At dusk, each drop
expands just so, as if it meant to
make a point.
In the morning, look
again. They have bent and now send
their sparkly tips sideways. Unlikely, extraordinary.
My tears draw points like that. Tears
glittering in the light of my life-like.
Dried to mineral salt daggers.
It’s the daggers for me.
Blood drips across my thigh in daggers
dark, rich and glowing. Watch
it run to iron points. It dries, I heal.
You might unwelcome me, ungreet me
in distaste, but I am here, making life,
as unlikely as that sounds.
freezes things, there are icicles.
On some warmer days, they drip
in the sunlight. At dusk, each drop
expands just so, as if it meant to
make a point.
In the morning, look
again. They have bent and now send
their sparkly tips sideways. Unlikely, extraordinary.
My tears draw points like that. Tears
glittering in the light of my life-like.
Dried to mineral salt daggers.
It’s the daggers for me.
Blood drips across my thigh in daggers
dark, rich and glowing. Watch
it run to iron points. It dries, I heal.
You might unwelcome me, ungreet me
in distaste, but I am here, making life,
as unlikely as that sounds.
Eva Zimet is a writer, illustrator, and teacher. She works with group and 1:1 dynamics in professional development, recovery, and education communities. Born in New York City, Eva earned an MFA from Columbia University, a JD from Vermont Law School, and is a certified mediator, TESOL, yoga, and meditation instructor. Her newest book The Lost Grip is a Pushcart Prize nominee, a collection of poems not for the faint of heart. She is also the author/illustrator of Lucy Dancer, a children’s picture book. She now lives in Vermont.