After all these months, I finally have an inspired counterpart to the sonnet, The Burn. After The Burn was published, a dear friend asked for an answer to it— of sorts. So I scratched my noodle, wadded up a ton of paper, drained 47 ink pens, and came up with not only an answer, but a poem that that uses the same gimmick as The Burn.

Helen, Sweetheart, I hope this satisfies you..

Thawed

Shall I speak of the way you ere freeze me
The manner in which your blaze chills my spine
Ice in my veins, not because I fear thee
To the point, you melt my frost and you’re mine

Brisk is your breath against my needing soul
Like a Siberian breeze on a tropic day
Your love cools my scars and renders me whole
No frigid spots, when your love smiles my way

Your touch, like a thin atomic strand burning
Sears across my tundra, filling my need
Your thick glacial honey, sets me yearning
Thawing gelid juice, lighting up my seed

Lust isn’t what wakes me from wintry sleep
Thawing me is your love so very deep