The white snow stripes split the blackest night.
The winter prisoner's sight vanishes as her lips chap.
Dusty slivers of skin are pulled mercilessly by gnashing teeth,
while the wind warden gnaws at the rest of her flesh.
She squints her eyes at the horror of the night's serrated edge.

The winter prisoner's steps are inhibited by snow shackles.
She trudges forward toward the friendly cherry-colored guard
that will smile warmly when woken for a post dinner-date.
But, the wind warden says nay and sends a spray of ice like
a fire hose turned on a crowd of escapees.

The winter prisoner retreats faster than the initial advance.