Tag Archives: Cold

AC

 

She exhaled. The air froze her breath, turning it to mist.

She turned, her high ponytail bouncing, and headed towards the fridge.

In her home hung icy stalactites. The floor was slick as a rink.

She cracked off an icicle as she passed through a door and picked her teeth with it.

Once this room was stiflingly warm, full of chaos and arguments and pets and children and steaming meals. Every blanket was a shared blanket. There wasn’t enough house to go around.

Now things were much better.

She checked her fridge and swore to herself. There wasn’t enough milk for her to make the ice cream. It was already time for another grocery run?

Grabbing her keys, she put on a visor and sunglasses, a light shawl, considered sunblock but decided against it.

When she opened the door, the sun hit her hard, even through the sunglasses. She took a deep breath of conditioned air before heading out. Her mantra would get her through this: only five minutes, only five minutes. Then she could be back home, making ice cream, enjoying the cold dark quiet isolation of her safe, safe house. With any luck, she wouldn’t have to talk to a single person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

When the world is first frostbitten

 

When the world is first frostbitten

tender trees touched in thin ice

When summer shows its back

abandoning you for a faraway land

When winter’s wan face smirks at your peephole

hard fingernails tapping your door

knowing it will soon be strong

enough to crack your lock and let itself in

When everything disintegrates into blue and white and crispy brown

and the wind, mad surgeon, lacerates your summer softened skin

 

then the clouds part

affording you

one

glimpse

of heavenly light

a welcoming patch in which to stand

 

When you know you are about to lose it for good

that is when the warmest sun shines

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Journal – Haggifying

I tried to draw for Inktober tonight but it was so abysmally bad, even I am giving myself a break. Mostly I’m just happy to still be able to talk, and breathe. It’s been an increasingly gross day. I’m watching this virus bloom in the warm culturing agent that is my body. My throat is closing up, a tiny series of trap doors, and with each one I lose another note to my voice. My coughs are coming more frequently now. Sometimes I have a sudden unpleasant awareness that I’m running out of air, drowning in my own fluids.

Why can’t colds leave as fast as they arrive?

 

Going for a walk with sick coworkers

K sounds like she has no nose

Uncharacteristically pepless.

H is physically weak

She nearly falls over trying to take a photo.

I cough and rasp my way through each sentence

But talk a lot more than usual.

Together we walk our fifteen minute break

Slowly

Cackling like old hags

Trying not to laugh too hard at ourselves

Lest we spur on another pulmonary problem.

“Flash forward thirty years,” I say,

“And this will be our constant reality.”

Let the healthy young men and women beware

The three plague sisters.

Flee from their slow, repulsive approach!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

The Wind Devil

 

An icy little wind devil

kicks up the air in my cube

leans against my left shoulder to read what I write

blows on my soup

peeks under my blanket

keeps making grabs for my toes.

The office AC has summoned him.

Only he who has been granted

the power of the thermostat

can send him back to the ninth circle

from whence he came.

 

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You take my hand in yours

 

You take my hand in yours

But I’m too cold to feel it.

When I was younger

You were what I always wanted

This moment

The culmination of my childhood dreams.

But life takes bites

With every swim past.

This hand, that eye, this leg

This heart

All lost

All replaced

With perfectly functioning

Automatics.

Now I have you.

You who were once so precious to me

But I can’t

For all that I am

Remember why.