Oymyakon

The only way to see it, they say,
Is as white desert.

To think each breath a memory of heat
You may never feel again, and hold.

I picture the point where the calyx
Of an alyssum stems from white

Into a full spectrum of colour.
But all is ultraviolet here

And the only separation,
Brief sun before a day of night.

Anhedonia. The slow freeze doubles.
Iced rivers run through me.