Winter 16-17

Two weeks into the season,
one week into the year,
she’s sick of it—
sick of it all.

All the words that rhyme
with frostbite
are trapped beneath the ice,
except one lost night.

Even the one
that escaped
did’t get far enough away
to thaw.

She doesn’t dare
stay awake past midnight

the way those radiators hiss at her
to sleep long and hard.
Curled up against the biggest one,
her cat refuses to hiss back.

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