Víctor Bermúdez’s Reviews > Bride of Ice: Selected Poems > Status Update

the mountain mourned. It will not let us go.

And yet they say it is by the pull of
an abyss, that you measure height

Beneath this caressing, plush blanket
I call up yesterday's dream

Today or tomorrow the snow will melt.

your time will come, my lines

my ear attends to you