Cold Weather Vertigo

Ashes trees alas your days

Forsaken by the infinite

Your lies even finery

Mere tears, that in a mirror glint

Meager mirror and high tower

Water of death incarcerated

In no ocean beyond all labor

Furrowed fever and eke clay

Weep that my space combines

Space upon you finalized

More than ocean on one expatriate

My fevers labor trees all dead

Unto such lies ashes yet

And clay more than infinite.

Édouard Glissant