The cold of this winter
like death's babysitter
the wind that traces your bones.
A broken blowdryer
both hands in the fire
valentine's day spent alone.
All through December
and half of November
the sash rat-rattled and moaned.
Six nights a week
watching t.v.
a seventh night
watching your phone.
The cold of this winter like death's babysitter
the wind that traces your bones.
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