Melting Beneath the Roses

First, check out the August, 2015 Ekphrastic Challenge Artist’s Choice wining poem! 
Ice House – by Ann Giard-Chase

My response to Rattle’s August challenge is here (Click on the “Ice House” link above to see the associated photo prompt):

Melting beneath the Roses

Do you ever feel like a block of ice,
from the eighteen hundreds?
Like your form is the result of a pickaxe?
Like you’re sweating a melt… losing small beads of yourself with every breath?
Like you’ve ridden thousands of miles, trapped in a train car,
after being torn out of an ice field in the wild wilds of the Rocky Mountain West?
Do you ever feel like your salvation is a dugout cave,
somewhere in the humid swelter of a place,
unknown and foreign?
Do you ever feel like you have finally been dumped,
crashing into the safety of a damp, dark, deep, earthen hole…
only to be poked in the ribs with sharp tines,
while being lifted inch by inch, closer to the sun?


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