Sealant

The wind is pushing through the frame,

a cold that makes the kitchen feel tame.

I bought the tube to stop the bite

and keep the warmth inside tonight.

But the plastic split along its side

and there was nowhere left to hide.

The paste got thick across my hand,

smelling like vinegar, gritty as sand.

I ran a bead along the wood—

it isn't straight, it isn't good.

It’s jagged, white, and far too wide,

showing all the ways the house has lied.