every time the door
opens a burst of frigid
air gobbles the field

whole milk in my
mocha latte to
fight winter sadness

defines the palette
of the room monotone
grays beside the fire

extinguisher sign
points to a cheap
Hewlett-Packard ink-

jet no one has used
since being on this planet
I have grown purple

grapes of jadedness
thorny arms hug nothing
I have to say

(originally published in Books ‘N’ Pieces Mag, Winter 2025)