rain crashes on screen windows
audibly foreshadowing the ice to come
while flashes of friction
signal summer’s last desperate gasp
wintry air seeps straight through both
rented walls and pale skin like paper
and I begin to wage war on the cold
swathed in scarf and blanket
worn slippers shuffle and
guard against glinting floor tiles
to make a microwave earn its keep
but no amount of swirling soup and cocoa
no vanilla flickers of candlelight
no artificial source of heat can warm
the space beside me as the wind howls
east down the highway corridor
which separates as easily as it connects
November 7, 2011