Melting Men(after Nele Azavedo’s ice sculptures ofseated figures, with a nod to T.S. Eliot)

by Neil Ellman
       
I

We are the men of ice.
Our heads are stuffed with permafrost
We have neither eyes to see
nor mouths to speak
Our souls are carved
from glacial floes
Like the angel of death      
we have no clothes, alas!
       
II

Remember us, remember us
not as a puddle full of rime
but as we were
and could have stayed
but for our moment in the sun
                 
III

Between our solid state
and liquid form
Between our frigid toes
and feverish dreams
falls the cold reality
of time—
August is the cruelest month!
             
IV

This is the way we melt away
This is the way we melt away
This is the way we melt away
not as a drip but a splatter