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Ice Maiden Murder

She clings to the edge of the roofline,
delicate and beautiful,
her body carved by an unseen artist
who must have worked his magic
through this Winter night.
I walk below this chorus line
of crystal virgins admiring the rainbows
dancing off their frozen hearts.
Without thinking, I stoop,
pick up a fallen branch
and cut them off
at the knees.
Their amputated parts hit the ground,
shattering in a musical barrage.
I walk to my car, sucking on
a piece of fallen icicle,
thinking how odd it is
that destroying something
can feel so good.

10 Dec 13

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