I am searching for solace below temperatures unreachable by alchemy
and I suffer jet-lag from outrunning the devil.
These inescapable digits beneath my skin have followed me to the arctic
where still, they continue to bite in fixed intervals.
Winter never fell on London because lepers speak in simple mathematics.
A subtle reminder as lovers meet on jagged street corners
and contraband is exchanged across the Atlantic.
I see its ever changing grin in the orbit of schedule
and acknowledgement will devour me.
Invisible deserts of lime depleting through a glass throat,
a microscopic reason to curse the blistering heat.
Corpses mounted
