Insulated

The coffee’s black as river mud,

it’s running through my tired blood.

I dropped the steel upon the floor

beside the heavy warehouse door.

It looks the same, a dented green,

the toughest thing I’ve ever seen.

But when I shake it, something thin

is rattling like a bulb within.

The heat is trapped, but the heart is gone,

enough to get me through the dawn.

A hollow sound, a jagged spark,

of broken glass inside the dark.