Tonight's Poet Corner: When It's Cold

When It's Cold
by Belinda Roddie

When it's cold - when the
leaves grow frosty fingers to grip
the rail of the stairwell with, and
the world grows sluggish like a
blood-chilled reptile settling in
a pile of Mother Nature's rags - I find
comfort in your arms, which drape
over me like curtains shielding me
from an ever more intrusive audience.

Take care not to let me shiver, for I
can cause earthquakes and raise
islands along both your skin and mine.
The erosion only keeps our pores open
for so long, and between us, the heat
exchanged could cause smoke if we
rely on too much friction or light
a spark with our quick tongues.

I am not around to hear your lamentations.
I sleep through them, and the dreams
I carry over mountains cry out for milk
and bread while my mouth is a desert
waiting for a storm. They say the last time
it snowed here was forty years ago, but
the rain is plentiful, and the gutters are
clogged by wet percussion and mud.

It will still be cold when we wake up,
and we will savor it - before the winter
ends quickly. Then, you and I will
separate, for if we cling to one another while
the sun expands, we will fuse together, and
we cannot possibly live as only one person.