Under the skin
Dip, like thrown rock
And it's cool
In a thin, sun-cradled layer
On the top.
Stretched hands out like darts
Into almost ice
In the dark, murk
Deep hollow of rock
Sun does not touch, dense
Almost ice
Swaddled in slowed time
And all within becomes fire
Fighting, almost ice
To the light, the surface and sun
The shining picture of mountains
When the skin stills again.
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