chocolate is a verb

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Tag Archives: heat

found poem: My blue sky

found poem: remember

found poem: the sun

found poem: fanatic

found poem: it’s rare

found poem: rage

found poem: We are the fire

found poem: the fire

found poem: when the heat

found poem: shoveling

found poem: within

found poem: stones

found poem: you

found poem: the heart

found poem: summer

found poem: SUCH HEAT

found poem: BECAUSE


kid glovesThe heater clicked once and roared to life. She had propped open the furnace room door to let the trapped heat radiate out into the chilly room. It wasn’t too bad. Her hands were warm, for the moment. She still carried the stored heat of the night’s sleep. It would wear off soon enough though, the room’s 63 degrees feeling like too few.

But before she’d notch up the thermostat, a degree at a time, she’d try other measures, not understanding her stubbornness. Wooly socks. Slippers. Two sweaters. She’d tried those gloves, rough gray wool, no fingertips, but they hadn’t worked. Too bulky for the keyboard. She needed some kid gloves, or silk maybe, without fingertips. She thought of taking the scissors to the kid gloves that had belonged to her mother. But the idea of lopping off the gloves’ soft fingertips was as painful as if there were already fingers in them. This would have to be a new pair of gloves, one without sentiment, bought for the purpose.

Those and the coat she had imagined, fashioned from an electric blanket. She could see it so clearly: the dark brown wool, the wires like veins, the satin trim at the collar, the extension cord trailing away behind her.

She thought about draping the electric blanket over her chair, sitting on it, wrapping it up over her shoulders and across her lap. She thought about Hawaii. She thought about crawling under her flannel-covered down comforter and waiting for spring to arrive.

Then, feeling a gloss of perspiration gathering on her upper lip, she realized she could write herself warm.

packing heat…

illustration - goose down loftOkay, I confess: I didn’t make my bed for more than three hours after I got out of it this morning. But when I finally got around to that homely chore, it was still warm under the covers, the down comforter holding body heat to shield the sheets against the cooler bedroom air, against the frost that crusts the garden just outside.

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