sunday afternoon when the caffeine wears off
The cold flows from the windowpane
to my fingertip
finding a home in the maze
of minuscule lines and coils
I can picture a haze of cold air that hovers between
the glass and the tip of my nose.
I wonder briefly about energy loss,
form my lips and tongue around the words
entropy and thermodynamics.
I have tried to be kinder to myself
I am always angry at my body
for doing what bodies do
I try to see my flesh as a canvas or
a friend or
at least something other
than an enemy.
I tell myself to look outside and see
that nature is beautiful the way it was created
but then I am distracted by the thin, brittle branches of the trees
black, damp and skeletal without their lush leaf clothing
and my gentle thoughts turn wretched with longing.
I tell myself no,
you are magic
I fight back
could believe that.
and it goes. and it goes.