I fed you. You wore your helmet of ice. And mask of ice. Only a mouth
opening. Mittens, slippers. Of ice. Electric blanket to maintain
homeostasis. Tubes seeding your blood with the molecules that scour.
Piece by piece. And read to you, afraid of my voice, while around us
the rude populations were moaning, weeping, begging behind curtains.
I didn’t want to be here; yet I came back. I had no choice. And this time
you fed me.