Page 69 - TheBridge_Vol16

ICE

Rachel Greer
The ice that covered this particular pond was the perfect thickness
unyielding on the banks, but prone to crack in the center
a cloudy white ice that you couldn’t see through
but you could imagine the water that swelled beneath
crystal clear, light blue depths
the color that spearmint tastes
I stand on the bank, long red hair whipping haphazardly in the biting wind
it would not matter that I hadn’t fixed it
the time that I did not spend on my hair, I spent on my face
a pink rouge on my cheeks, a deep red on my lips, and mascara
the waterproof kind
with the ice now under my feet, I imagined how they would find me
my hair will be spread out on
all sides in constant, lazy movement
crystals will take the place of my eyelashes and brows and oh!
how they will sparkle
and I’ll be gone but then I’ll float
face up encased in ice and blanketed in glittering frost
perfectly preserved and almost certainly
tragically beautiful
I imagine the ice cracking like a gunshot and people surely running to see
too late to save me but early enough to watch
handsome men probably
they’ll drag me out and mourn the beautiful stranger gone too soon
they’ll probably see me whenever they close their eyes
I won’t be forgotten
the ice grows thinner below my feet
I think of how absolutely poetic it will all be
me, floating in the crystal water
the sun will hit my auburn hair and it will burn brighter than ever
more vibrant than it ever was in life
my cheeks and lips will hold their color
and I could be sleeping
the ice starts to crack but it isn’t so loud
the kind of sound that might go unnoticed
and then I’m slipping through and the chill of the water stabs my flesh like a million tiny
needles
and it isn’t spearmint
it’s dark and murky and I don’t float
I sink.

Vol. XVI | 57