Day 35

The icy crepuscules of winter's end
confine me to a frozen cell, alone,
solitary, and alone.

I want to call out to the guard,
to shake
the bars of my cage, but my fingers numb
at the edges.

You cannot answer my pleas,
my cries
in the night muffled
by the shrouding of the snows.

I am covered,
the blankets chill to my skin,
my veiled form cloaked and heavy
on the cot in my cloistered hall.