i'm carving you an ice hotel

not like the one that's built each year 
in quebec with its vast blue hallways & tunnels
& beds of ice draped with furs. 
i'm making yours 
out of individual ice cubes
from the white tray in the fridge.
each a little rounded rectangle.
i'm using tap water & filling each reservoir
considering what kind of windows 
these might make & if the sun will 
destroy it all before you even wake up.

i stay up all night to make your ice hotel.
let me explain, i'm doing this entirely
for myself. the brevity comforts me.
i like the idea of a structure dying each year.
i watch videos online of the ice hotel
melting & the rooms shrinking down 
to nothing. in my head
i imagine all guests gathered outside.
a kind of funeral. watching the room 
they slept in turn to water again.

our ice hotel will last even less time.
the heat from my fingers destroys it
as i work. 
here is your chandelier.
here is your love seat. 
here is your television of ice 
& here is where i want to lay with you
while the blankets turn to water over us.

each year they go back. bring trucks 
of ice blocks. lay a new foundation
of ice. they touch the freezing walls 
& see their breath turn vapor.
in their great fur jackets 
they take photographs of every single room.

why does my memory write itself 
on ice? i took pictures of you 
& you laid out beautiful for me. 
i can't remember what i wanted 
when i took them. i just see your body
& how your skin was even becoming ice.

a fear of melting. i collect jelly jars 
to keep out hotel in for once it's water again.
i tell you to look & you love it
& your walk around. cheeks blushed 
from the chill. i don't want to 
kiss you but know i should.

i want to put the whole hotel
in my mouth with you in it. 
it's not that i want to harm you 
but i want to feel you melt.
i am a terrible red open oven.
why must we be so warm?

in the aftermath the mud is a form
of weeping. we slosh through.
our boots get stuck over & over.
i am a cruel architect.
i want you to come back each year
& see what i'll make for you.
i want only to make wonderful rooms
that collapse.