Maia Huddleston
i’ve been cold ever since the beginning. perpetual goosebumps dot my limbs, even in creases and folds
always a blanket wrapped around my shoulders, see: king arthur and the knights of the kitchen table
i postpone showers to avoid stepping out of them. the midwestern winter brings deliverymen with deep
pockets, begging for a chance to work
but over the bleeding horizon, i watch the sunlight shed in beading drops.
i know the cardinals will be home soon, and i know the water on my stove will start boiling
—protein, fat, salt
a red-coated figure slips through the back window. he says he has come to make me a warm meal. tonight,
i believe him,
release the pot, and find a seat by the fireplace.