by John Sosnowski
My heart cracks at the sight of the ice,
shaping itself, a swell around dead flesh,
chilled to the bone in a lightless landscape.
My hope sinks under warm running water,
drowned in my own negligence.
I failed to free the lifeless hunk from the cold.
My shame cannot be blanketed.
Dinner’s going to be late tonight.
The freezer-burnt roast is still frozen.