The coldest room in the house
was on fire –
hollowed out of itself.
You were still sitting;
sitting still like a glacier
melting into me.
Trying to turn the fan
towards the smoke
and harrowing midnight.
The coldest room in the house
was a fire –
hallowed be thy flame.
I made no sounds of sleep
nor watched the fire crawl
across the ceiling, darkly.
The coldest room in the house
was afire –
unhallowed serpentflame specter.
We don’t know where we’ve been –
The knives: all alive:
you’re only just
awake.
awake.
