Iron Sighs

The heat kicks on, a groan, a hiss,

a metal monster, can't dismiss

the clank, the scrape, the sudden chime,

it rattles through the sleeping time.

Three A.M., and I'm wide awake,

for every shudder, every break

in its old joints, a tired sigh,

while seconds slowly tick on by.

Against the wall, its bulk looms dim,

a constant, grating, rusty hymn.

It sounds like settling, years of strain,

a waking ache, through my own vein.