the men who said that
stand on guard at the river over
night fall, their armour had
already rusted, they had silver eyes, too. the
neon lights on the
of the banks are blinking
so often that they put the men into
a trance. when the snow comes, it falls
so softly as it freezes them, that
they mistake it for cotton, candy cotton.
they have frozen their arms. their blinders
go shut, and oxygen arrives
at the parameters of their skin, wicking itself
into the steel.