carl the lionhearted

the white rain fell
frozen thousand of feet above us
in crisp
angry swirls
as the wind
sucks the warmth
from our body, our soul

bearing no gifts
except cheapened black skin
exposed
this time and space
kills a mere mortal
who cannot dictate
oral arguments
for
staying.

Cans are lined up
and passed out
in order
to fight the bitterness
and they succeed
but they fail eventually

no british accent can be the savior of us
nor can a man step into the light of the one who isn’t there yet
aged
broken
mingling with death
this superhero has found
no one wants to be rescued
after all