If I hang from a chandelier of ice,
Will the cold seep into my bloodstream first,
Like the harbinger of a frozen curse?
Or will the oxygen that escapes
In panicked gasps through faint blue lips,
Be the harbinger of my life’s eclipse?
Gazing up at the chandelier of ice,
Perhaps today, I will only
Admire how it twinkles so magnificently.
© Jade M. Wong