WEBVTT

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"Night Sweat."

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The fire is out.

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The wood was green, and not
even the wind in the chimney

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will bring it back.

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The last cold sputter onshore,
and psychotic than black.

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Sleep picks at the window
and empties the room,

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I put down my book and sleep.

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The snow cluttered,
a broken tree,

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what air there is drones on.

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She is gone, my skin
carries her stain.

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I could sleep away the night.

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I could read Rimbaud the
better part of sleep,

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walk on melting ice.

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Burn the lamp to avoid the
stars, carry her bones.

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Look for a change
that was always there,

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at least I've
broken the silence.

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Branches scrape the
window, out there

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in the dark becoming spring.

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The wind is a careless light.