I whispered, "The cold weather is upon us." The cold breeze
breathed to my face when I opened the fridge's door.
Can chocolates really make me happy? But what if
they are cold and stiff like a wife? Can my palms melt her?
I went back up the stairs into a room, dark, quiet.
The blanket parried against the cold; you, curled up into a fetal posture.
Were you conserving whatever remained of your love's heat?
I slide back into our marriage to exchange body heat with you.
There you are with eyes rapidly moving, were you dreaming
of someone else keeping you warm?
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