completely full,
but not coming out,
clogged by the very substance
that gives it meaning;
and every now and then,
i hear it rumble within
as another tray is broken,
falling into the bin.
and all there is to do
is go to the source,
opening the cover,
forcefully taking my desire.
the sieve and the sand 
it took two readings for me to understand
at first i thought you were referring to your wife as ice heart…. and then forcefully taking your desire was freaky deaky dutch.
but i got you.
i’m just slow.
This is one that i don’t know if I really had any intention for. I went to the ice maker and nothing came out, despite its efforts, and the ice bin was full to the brim. Then I thought that ice maker heart was a cool metaphor. So all that to say, what did you get me as saying?
I’m doing poetry analysis with my classes, and this would be a great example of an author’s intentions being meaningless. Isn’t poetry fun!