Day 943, January 11, 2023


A cold quiet evening, 
the dog is thirsty for companionship 
as I build the fire, 
release the cat from the bedroom, 
eat a handful of wasabi almonds, 
pour myself a glass of juice. 

I can feel the emptiness in my fingers and my toes, 
the chill never quite leaving since this morning 
when I stepped out of my robe and slippers 
onto the stone tile of the bathroom floor. 

I remember walking across a dew dappled lawn in summer, 
before even the moose were stirring 
and my feet were soaked through. 
I had to wring out my socks and hang them up to dry 
like a pauper’s Christmas. 

My wife hasn’t left me because the marzipan is still on the coffee table 
and the dog. 
But still, 
the quiet. 
I might close my eyes. 


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