Winter as a white dress
dropped on the bedroom floor.
A deepening snowdrift, blue and moving.
The nautical heart laughs, clings
to the eaves of the body, released.
Overcome by sleep, small animals
roll into holes, sink into watery
dreams that slosh into flesh, bump
into bone. Children leave school
without hats, without warming
their hands. The radiator
burbles in our living room,
a leggy thing, intestinal,
painted metal that invited itself in
and turned our secrets out. Now,
we never touch each other
until our fingertips blister
white-hot water
sweetened by the lick of flames.


© 2007 by  Rita Schweiss. All rights reserved.