Thankfully, this occurred a number of years ago, but is apropos given it ~ 5 degrees outside and frozen snow is everywhere. I let faucets drip through the night.
Glistening in headlights,
icy trees resemble deep-sea hydras.
Our house fills with chilly pitch. In candlelight
my breath bumps against a bureau
as I rummage for sweatpants and wool socks.
In the den we burrow under sleeping bags.
The fireplace stretches its red-coal throat
wide as a Roc hatchling.
I doze, and dream a spark lands on the rug
when upstairs a pipe seizes—
clangs from Cold’s bludgeon.
I hold my breath and listen for spurting water
but only flickers of flame
echo from dark corners.