Share this story
Close X
Switch to Desktop Site

Rough Ice

Something is, beneath the ice, some dark murmur against locks. Some insistent knuckle knocks ... But the cold holds like a vise, bank to bank and wave to bed, clamps the lid down overhead. Clouds made jailor by the freeze feel the fluid tug of hands, water pressing at its bands. Clouds and steel-hasp ripples show that fierce struggling below.

Follow Stories Like This
Get the Monitor stories you care about delivered to your inbox.