windows

that sky is icewater white as

            once your hair was above, pulled, pushed, dropping rain
your rain that seethed and balmed.

            i remember our bed

and i burned and froze at afternoon, at night

blankets back to that touch

i slice a new window open and

               efficient heaters blow back against wind's push, 

devious wind's tongues hissing mosaic skin rhythms and

               i am alone in bed. 

and again i freeze and burn at afternoon, at night
blankets back to this touch