6·Jan·2006 · "White" · Angeline

[The Poets]

White

The tea-length gown, bound
in a simple sash, the netting.
Chiffon and the stiff column
of neck, dark hair above, braided
tight in winter blooms:

Jessamine, Camillia Japonica,
Japheth Orchid there and lain
upon hands frozen under petals.

A diamond’s graven brilliance
on the long waxen finger,
platinum molded to bone.

Ivory from skin to lace
the glacial sheets risen
over legs, frost on pale thighs

and breasts veiled beneath
a lady’s handkerchief inscribed
in threads of rue, bitter herb
of grace fallen on linen.

Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall, a slow pace
measured to the harpsichord.
The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road.
Bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar.

Ice and ice and ice
foreshadowed years of winter
yet to be.​

 

[WickedEve]

What a mistake to read this why children are being children in the background. I really need to read this later when it's quiet. Too much to absorb. I can tell that it is beautiful. It doesn't appear to be a quick and simple read, so I will return.

 

[Angeline]

What a mistake to read this why children are being children in the background. I really need to read this later when it's quiet. Too much to absorb. I can tell that it is beautiful. It doesn't appear to be a quick and simple read, so I will return.

No problem. I remembered I have to do some comments on other poems first, too, which I'll do after I run my pre-snow errands.

 

[WickedEve]

No problem. I remembered I have to do some comments on other poems first, too, which I'll do after I run my pre-snow errands.

Remember, you did comment on Boo's poem, but the thread was moved.
I still haven't had a quiet moment to reread this poem, and I probably won't until Monday morning.
I will tell you a couple of lines that really work for me:

braided tight in winter blooms

platinum molded to bone

the glacial sheets risen
over legs, frost on pale thighs

inscribed
in threads of rue, bitter herb
of grace fallen on linen

 

[jthserra]

Brrrr....

White

The tea-length gown, bound
in a simple sash, the netting.
Chiffon and the stiff column
of neck, dark hair above, braided
tight in winter blooms:

Jessamine, Camillia Japonica,
Japheth Orchid there and lain
upon hands frozen under petals.

A diamond’s graven brilliance
on the long waxen finger,
platinum molded to bone.

Ivory from skin to lace
the glacial sheets risen
over legs, frost on pale thighs

and breasts veiled beneath
a lady’s handkerchief inscribed
in threads of rue, bitter herb
of grace fallen on linen.

Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall, a slow pace
measured to the harpsichord.
The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road.
Bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar.

Ice and ice and ice
foreshadowed years of winter
yet to be.​

Chilled... the marriage of an ice queen. The description of this corpse-bride consistently reinforces the cold, uncaring stature of this too white wedding. And as the couple kisses, shares a toast and slice of icy wedding cake, the barren, frozen prediction of a forever winter. The wedding hall may be neutral, but the poet isn't, but then neither are the heavens, and given the use of the harpsichord, others feel the cold too.

Throughout, the hints of alliteration added a resonance to the frozen words, I longed for perhaps for a bit more, but then again, that might have overdone it. The first line tantalized me... "The tea-length gown, bound..." while later the almost echo over two lines:

"Ivory from skin to lace
the glacial sheets risen..."

and

"...muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until..."

The first two stanzas, gently, subtletly draw the reader in... initially presenting a seemingly warm, inviting image, that cools only after the reader has vested him or herself in the woman. We see, in spite of the lovely gown and masked exterior, the bride is something far different than the beautiful innocent we initially pictured. But by then it was too late and we are compelled to learn the true, inner self of the bride.

Reading the poem aloud exhibited a wonderful flow of expression, with few if any stutters or trip ups. As far as recommendations (picking nits really), I wondered if you could free up the following stanzas, changing your sentence structure slightly to draw out the thought:

"Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall, a slow pace
measured to the harpsichord.
The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road.
Bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar."


Highlighted in green... "...the window framing snow,..." I thought you might consider "...window framed snow..." and then altering the punctuation as follows:

"The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road,
bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle.
Dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar."

The context of the last three lines above changes some, but you shed the two short, choppy sentences that bogged down the reading (just a bit) here.

The ending added the final frozen words:

"Ice and ice and ice
foreshadowed years of winter
yet to be."

"Ice and ice and ice" indeed! A chilling poem... literally.


jim : )

 

[twelveoone]

braided tight in winter blooms

platinum molded to bone

the glacial sheets risen
over legs, frost on pale thighs

inscribed
in threads of rue, bitter herb
of grace fallen on linen

Agree with Eve, here, and:
threads of rue - just brilliant
platinum molded to bone - one of the few uses of "bone" I approve of, quite nice.
A diamond’s graven brilliance - like this "graven"

this is?
"was a leaden sky"
a cliche, inexcusable, compounded, I feel by the use of silvery in the next line, as if some sort of metal working is going on, but in the wrong direction.

but then, everything has a weak point - get rid of "leaden sky", pardon the pun, but it weighs down a otherwise very fine piece of work.

 

[TheRainMan]

White

The tea-length gown, bound
in a simple sash, the netting.
Chiffon and the stiff column
of neck, dark hair above, braided
tight in winter blooms:

Jessamine, Camillia Japonica,
Japheth Orchid there and lain
upon hands frozen under petals.

A diamond’s graven brilliance
on the long waxen finger,
platinum molded to bone.

Ivory from skin to lace
the glacial sheets risen
over legs, frost on pale thighs

and breasts veiled beneath
a lady’s handkerchief inscribed
in threads of rue, bitter herb
of grace fallen on linen.

Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall, a slow pace
measured to the harpsichord.
The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road.
Bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar.

Ice and ice and ice
foreshadowed years of winter
yet to be.​

I just read Jim's fine take on the poem - I differed in one main understanding as I read it...

I do not think it is the bride who is the "ice queen," but the entire ceremony itself, and the coldness perhaps reflects the bride's trepidation more than the bride herself, at an impending mistake.

I think that setting the poem in a series of images rather than a narrative works extremely well. I do find troubles with the overall structure that I’ll try to detail that as best I can. (The technical errors were minor, spelling and punctuation in small number.)

I find the mannequin-like bride (in the frigid atmosphere of cold and bad omen) an exceptional concept. But I think the mood (well done in a strangely cold and somber way, with words like “graven” and “glacial” and “frost” and the bitterness of rue, chill cantanas portending bad things that one might not normally see in a wedding dress and ceremony) would be more suited by line lengths that were not only a bit longer in places, but also varied and jagged–

I also think more thought should be given to the linebreaks, which could add much to the stark images of heaviness and winter, and the walk down the aisle to a very bad place – by hanging certain words at line’s end.

IMO, the last strophe, as written above, is weak. It divulges too much (the problem, to me, is the word “foreshadowed”). The rest of the poem hints at an ugly marriage without actually saying it, and I think much of the coiled power is lost because the last strophe is too obvious and comes right out and says what heretofore you’ve make the reader feel and think but not actually know.

A possible rewrite implementing my suggestions, to provoke your thoughts only, is below (I hope you find some of these thoughts helpful)

(edited to add - I just read 1201's comment, and I find 'leaden sky' okay, if left as an image by itself, not closely connected to the following image):


White

The tea-length gown bound in a simple sash,
the netting. Chiffon,
and a stiff column of neck. Dark hair,

braided in winter blooms—Jessamine,
Camellia Japonica, Japheth Orchid
lain upon hands frozen under petals.

A diamond’s graven brilliance on waxen finger,

platinum molded to bone. Ivory
from skin to lace,
the glacial sheets risen over legs. Frost

on pale thighs and breasts veiled
beneath a lady’s handkerchief
inscribed in threads of rue—the bitter
herb of grace fallen on linen. The crack

of satin heels on thin ice, picking toward
the neutrality of a marble hall
to the measured pace of harpsichords.

The Sinfonia, the chill cantata
echoed along windows framing snow

and empty road,
bare trees and river’s rage
muted in caps of foam.

Heaven was a leaden sky.

A silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched. Reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar.

Ice and ice and ice, a winter come.

 

[jthserra]

I just read Jim's fine take on the poem - I differed in one main understanding as I read it...

I do not think it is the bride who is the "ice queen," but the entire ceremony itself, and the coldness perhaps reflects the bride's trepidation more than the bride herself, at an impending mistake.

Not really arguing here, but more encouraging further introspection on the poem...

I keep finding myself focusing on the bride rather than the ceremony because it seems the location was neutral:

Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall,

but I am assuming the poet is a spectator along with us readers. Ah, but if the poet is the bride then yes... the ceremony and the bride's, not reluctance, but trepidation may create the chill.


I think looking as a spectator, the poet siezes on the bride, no groom or guests are mentioned directly (the grooms lips maybe)... but if the poet is the bride then suddenly it becomes a different poem.

Wow, an interesting look at POV here.

I will be interested to see Angeline's take on all this...


jim : )

 

[TheRainMan]

but I am assuming the poet is a spectator along with us readers. Ah, but if the poet is the bride then yes... the ceremony and the brides, not reluctance, but trepidation may create the chill.

I think looking as a spectator, the poet siezes on the bride, no groom or guests are mentioned directly (the grooms lips maybe)... but if the poet is the bride then suddenly it becomes a different poem.

Wow, an interesting look at POV here.

jim : )

Great point. I did read it as the poet being the bride...not sure why.

The perspective is totally different if the poet is spectator, of course. And since the poet uses neither first-person nor third-person pronouns to refer to the bride, the perspective is left open.

That is probably best, and maybe even intentional.

 

[twelveoone]

On colour

White is used as an inversion, here, of the typical Western concept of...
White however is the colour of death, of funerals in the East.
"Camillia Japonica" I find an interesting inclusion. Another signal, perhaps?

you have an interesting colour flow, from silver to white
"platinum molded to bone. "

I wonder if the silver to white strain can be strengthed, some of it exists at the end
"silvery band" to ice

Get rid of lead, it is grey, muddies it.

On another side, this I find just strange:
"bloodless slice of sculpted sugar"
would you have prefered a bloody slice?

 

[Angeline]

Lots to mull here and I deeply appreciate the time you've given my poem thus far.

I'm off to review other poems now (got tied up in a teenager's--my teenager's-- saga most of the day lol).

I'll be thinking through the suggestions and will respond specifically later.

Thanks again. You're all wonderful.

--Ange

PS--I knew "leaden sky" was a cliche darnit, but I was running out of "icy, coldy, weighty" adjectives. I'll consult my thesaurus.

 

[Angeline]

A few thoughts...

the poet is the bride, but I intentionally left pronouns out as much as possible because I thought too much of a narrative feel would "warm it up." I didn't want there to be any humanity (if that makes sense) detracting from the sterility of the tone.

It is the bride's story, but she sees herself as a mannequin, window-dressing in a setting as opposed to a person who is the center of a celebration.

1201's comment about white being the color of death in Asia is right on. You are good, 1201! I thought a lot about that while writing the poem and that I wanted to make readers' knowledge of that work in furthering the tone.

I do think the lines need to be longer. I have become increasingly aware in my writing that short lines equal fast pace. I don't want a fast pace in this poem. I want a very measured, dirge-like processional feel. I guess that argues against Patrick's suggestion to make the structure jagged. It's an excellent suggestion, and I can see how it would work, but I don't think I can have it both ways--funereal pace and jagged line breaks. And I think that measured pace is critical.

Some line breaks, imo, are key like "bound" ending that first line.

Jim, I didn't even realize I was getting that assonance that you caught. It makes me want to keep leaden, though I know "leaden sky" is a cliche (but maybe excusable, lol). So far I can only think of "wan" as a replacement, but that's not strong enough.

I see the point about bloodless slice as opposed to uh bloody slice, which IS nonsensical, but I want slice to work as both a noun and a verb there. Not sure if or how to resolve that...

I'm going to keep mulling. Thank you all again.

 

[Angeline]

White is used as an inversion, here, of the typical Western concept of...
White however is the colour of death, of funerals in the East.
"Camillia Japonica" I find an interesting inclusion. Another signal, perhaps?

you have an interesting colour flow, from silver to white
"platinum molded to bone. "

I wonder if the silver to white strain can be strengthed, some of it exists at the end
"silvery band" to ice

Get rid of lead, it is grey, muddies it.

On another side, this I find just strange:
"bloodless slice of sculpted sugar"
would you have prefered a bloody slice?

Camillia Japonica is not always white, but it can be. I have heard it means "brilliant," so I meant the association in terms of a diamond's hard, cut brilliance. I've also read that it grows upright, doesn't spread, so, to me, it supported a bound, rigid image.

 

[Reltne]

"Heaven

was a leaden sky."

I've been concentrating on this, since everything (and more) that I could want to say has already been said. There is some marvelous commentary in this thread. A to you all!

All I can think of is something like:

"Heaven

was unleavened sky"

or

"Heaven

was a ladened sky"

Sorry I cannot be of more help.

 

[Angeline]

"Heaven

was a leaden sky."

I've been concentrating on this, since everything (and more) that I could want to say has already been said. There is some marvelous commentary in this thread. A to you all!

All I can think of is something like:

"Heaven

was unleavened sky"

or

"Heaven

was a ladened sky"

Sorry I cannot be of more help.

Heaven was an unleavened sky. The sun was a matzoh ball.

Hmmmm.

 

[ishtat]

!!

There is little one can add to the above comments .I read it as being told by the Poet but it seemed reflective of something long past .I am not keen on the last two lines which say too much but I do not think the Rain Man's alternative is quite right either.It's difficult to follow the "ice on ice on ice" line which is wonderfully threatening because any further qualification may seem weak in comparasion. Otherwise chillingly good

 

[twelveoone]

1201's comment about white being the color of death in Asia is right on. You are good, 1201! I thought a lot about that while writing the poem and that I wanted to make readers' knowledge of that work in furthering the tone.


Jim, I didn't even realize I was getting that assonance that you caught. It makes me want to keep leaden, though I know "leaden sky" is a cliche (but maybe excusable, lol). So far I can only think of "wan" as a replacement, but that's not strong enough.

I see the point about bloodless slice as opposed to uh bloody slice, which IS nonsensical, but I want slice to work as both a noun and a verb there. Not sure if or how to resolve that...

I'm going to keep mulling. Thank you all again.

you have a few possibilites, strenghen the East (japonica) with snow clouds arriving from eastern skies or keep leaden, move it under silvery - you will have a downward progression from Platinium -Silver - lead. Noble to base.

You have a clump of cliches, "empty road", "bloodless slice" comes off as near cliche, give some thought to removing "bloodless" and one always thinks of blood, red. For slice to work as both a noun and a verb, advise keep it unobtrusive, you are waving a red flag, overstating.

Consider the colour, do you want visuals other than silver and white? Be spare.

 

[Angeline]

you have a few possibilites, strenghen the East (japonica) with snow clouds arriving from eastern skies or keep leaden, move it under silvery - you will have a downward progression from Platinium -Silver - lead. Noble to base.

You have a clump of cliches, "empty road", "bloodless slice" comes off as near cliche, give some thought to removing "bloodless" and one always thinks of blood, red. For slice to work as both a noun and a verb, advise keep it unobtrusive, you are waving a red flag, overstating.

Consider the colour, do you want visuals other than silver and white? Be spare.

I have to think about it. I liked the introduction of red toward the end of the poem for the blood association, but maybe it's not strong enough to work--and if I made it stronger it might defeat the tone established thus far. It might be another case of not being able to have it both ways. Red may be another poem, the angry violent one on the same subject.

Also not sure how far I want to go with the eastern thing--I want to use it, but I want it to be subtle.

I like the downward metal progression. Very understated.

The road was empty. No cars was something I kept noticing out the window that day. I want to be true to the memory, and the phrase as a cliche doesn't bother me, but maybe there's a better way to say it.

 

[Angeline]

There is little one can add to the above comments .I read it as being told by the Poet but it seemed reflective of something long past .I am not keen on the last two lines which say too much but I do not think the Rain Man's alternative is quite right either.It's difficult to follow the "ice on ice on ice" line which is wonderfully threatening because any further qualification may seem weak in comparasion. Otherwise chillingly good

Thank you.

I really want to keep "ice and ice and ice," but I know the poem can't end with just that phrase. I've pushed that issue out of my head for a few days to give my mind a rest.

 

[The_Fool]

So sue me. I read the other comments first.

Keep the leaden. Reasons:

1. Sound
2. Neutral Color with overtones of the somber
3. The weight. Provides characterization to the heaviness of the situation.

When it came to the ice part, the first thing that popped into my head was "Chrystalline ice sheathing ice."

Certainly I itch to rewrite it, but that would make it my poem and not yours. I could take a ginsu knife to it and carve out words, but that would affect the flow. There is a certain sedate, controlled flow to the words that would be affected by slicing and dicing. I know I'm preaching to the choir, but think about what you want to say. How you want to say it. And write it.

Heavy...

 

[Angeline]

So sue me. I read the other comments first.

Keep the leaden. Reasons:

1. Sound
2. Neutral Color with overtones of the somber
3. The weight. Provides characterization to the heaviness of the situation.

When it came to the ice part, the first thing that popped into my head was "Chrystalline ice sheathing ice."

Certainly I itch to rewrite it, but that would make it my poem and not yours. I could take a ginsu knife to it and carve out words, but that would affect the flow. There is a certain sedate, controlled flow to the words that would be affected by slicing and dicing. I know I'm preaching to the choir, but think about what you want to say. How you want to say it. And write it.

Heavy...

Thank you, Fooly.

I'm intentionally not thinking about this poem for a few days. I've read all the comments and I want to give them some time to sink into my subconscious before I consider further how to revise. I uh have a real propensity to overthink stuff.

 

[CharleyH]

Chilled... the marriage of an ice queen. The description of this corpse-bride consistently reinforces the cold, uncaring stature of this too white wedding. And as the couple kisses, shares a toast and slice of icy wedding cake, the barren, frozen prediction of a forever winter. The wedding hall may be neutral, but the poet isn't, but then neither are the heavens, and given the use of the harpsichord, others feel the cold too.

Throughout, the hints of alliteration added a resonance to the frozen words, I longed for perhaps for a bit more, but then again, that might have overdone it. The first line tantalized me... "The tea-length gown, bound..." while later the almost echo over two lines:

"Ivory from skin to lace
the glacial sheets risen..."

and

"...muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until..."

The first two stanzas, gently, subtletly draw the reader in... initially presenting a seemingly warm, inviting image, that cools only after the reader has vested him or herself in the woman. We see, in spite of the lovely gown and masked exterior, the bride is something far different than the beautiful innocent we initially pictured. But by then it was too late and we are compelled to learn the true, inner self of the bride.

Reading the poem aloud exhibited a wonderful flow of expression, with few if any stutters or trip ups. As far as recommendations (picking nits really), I wondered if you could free up the following stanzas, changing your sentence structure slightly to draw out the thought:

"Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall, a slow pace
measured to the harpsichord.
The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road.
Bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar."


Highlighted in green... "...the window framing snow,..." I thought you might consider "...window framed snow..." and then altering the punctuation as follows:

"The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road,
bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle.
Dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar."

The context of the last three lines above changes some, but you shed the two short, choppy sentences that bogged down the reading (just a bit) here.

The ending added the final frozen words:

"Ice and ice and ice
foreshadowed years of winter
yet to be."

"Ice and ice and ice" indeed! A chilling poem... literally.


jim : )

I saw something much different on a first read, then read your take repectfully, but read something else in dichotomy- so read thrice and I will give my take soon. Yet, the first stanza reminds me much of the Victorian era and bone collars, as does some of the remainder of the poem recall something "other timely". Cold or Victorian?

Need to read again.

 

[Sex and Death]

White

The tea-length gown, bound
in a simple sash, the netting.
Chiffon and the stiff column
of neck, dark hair above, braided
tight in winter blooms:

Jessamine, Camillia Japonica,
Japheth Orchid there and lain
upon hands frozen under petals.

A diamond’s graven brilliance
on the long waxen finger,
platinum molded to bone.

Ivory from skin to lace
the glacial sheets risen
over legs, frost on pale thighs

and breasts veiled beneath
a lady’s handkerchief inscribed
in threads of rue, bitter herb
of grace fallen on linen.

Silence cracked when satin
heels shattered thin ice,
tentative toes encased,
picking toward the neutrality

of a marble hall, a slow pace
measured to the harpsichord.
The Sinfonia, the chill cantata

echoed along the window
framing snow, an empty road.
Bare trees and the river’s rage
muted in caps of foam. Heaven

was a leaden sky. Mute until
the silvery band stuttered past knuckle,
dry lips touched, reserve swallowed
in a cold click of crystal
and the bloodless slice of sculpted sugar.

Ice and ice and ice
foreshadowed years of winter
yet to be.​

This is my first critical offering here. I have read the required Stickies. I will refrain from reading other critiques before I give my initial critique, and then I will read other critiques and comment with the collective if it seems I have something to offer.

Any suggestions I offer are are meant purely as points of departure and not "corrections." I am appreciative of the opportunity to play in your poem and will clean up my mess, putting all back in the order in which I found it, when I am done.

I am struck by the mythic quality of the images and overall montage, yet I have known this woman and her sisters in my daily life, and have felt her in all women in moments. Like crystallizing ice, the imagery of this poem relentlessly chills until it is too late and my breath is suddenly visible. This could easily have become Disney, but it has real malice, it has teeth. Powerful, delicate and cutting imagery. I like it.

I don't feel the poem as a narrative, but more as a progressive montage from which a narratve gestalt emerges, much like the unique crystal structure that is present but unseen in a fluid before it freezes. The connoted narrative is ceremonial, bridal, funerary. The narrative is the negative space of this montage, and it is covertly powerful, defining the poem as much as the overt imagery. The connotative narrative as counterpoint to the cold malice is my favorite dynamic of the piece. It rocks.

Cold encroaching malice is the inherent aesthetic and ethic that grabs me in this poem, and my critique will hold to that scale.

"Harpsichord," "leaden sky," and "foreshadowed years of winter yet to be" each pitch me out of the poem's clear and brittle crispness with their mildly warming cliche. They each work as word choices, but I feel let down by them, and the rest of the poem sparkles with such malice that they stand out for me.

"Harpsichord" is caricatured, alsmost comic, in my eyes and ears. Derivatve? "Harpsichord" is icy as a word, image and sound, but it feels more vampiric and morbid than ice queeny. Maybe "measured to discordant strings?"

"Leaden sky" feels hard to address. I suggest "ashen sky," which may offer a clashing juxtaposiiton of the light and life of heaven and the the gray-white ashes of death. I also like the sound of it better, "heaven was an ashen sky."

"Toward the neutrality of a marble hall" is an intriguing phrase from a linguistic and imagistic perspective, but it has an ambiguity that is incongruent with the starkness of your intent and images. It's "neutrality" that distracts me. May I suggest perhaps "banality" or "polarity," if the pun on "polar" is not too much.

Also, "bloodless slice of sculpted sugar" is perhaps too sweet, and, to spite the crystalline image, is not particularly cold.

"Foreshadowed years of winter yet to be" could become, "Ice and ice and ice, no anullment of winter shall there be." I'm reaching.

The phrase, "and the river's rage muted in caps of foam." could become "and the river's whitecap wrath muted in foam." which would allow for the color white to add its death-like coldness and, from my perspective, make the phrase more precise and chillier overall.

Hope there is something useful here.

I really enjoyed this poem's powerful insistent imagery.

S&D