Breach

I see a border

slim, distinct,

between warmth and cold.

It keeps me.

Here

in the warmth my body builds

in stagnancy.

Radiating

onto this

emily-shaped area of bed these

emily-embracing folds of blankets,

so that I remain

motionless, I stay

here.

Outside this, my cocoon,

I sense the disturbing fresh,

jarring.

I feel warmth in

my mother’s arms and

these noises shuffling speaking playing

these walls

that view

that run and those

pillows.

Beyond lies

the cold of an introduction,

chilly emptiness of small-talk and

the shiver of dullness day-to-day.

The lack of a

me-carved indent.

It takes a while to become comfortable in

someplace new.

To inhabit cold,

and make it warm, too.

EWV