The Set Point

The floorboards give a shallow groan,

you’ve left me in the dark alone.

I heard the plastic dial thunk,

and now the room is cold and shrunk.

You keep the air at sixty-two,

I’m shivering because of you.

My foot is sticking from the bed,

with one gray, frayed, and lonely thread.

The wool has given up the ghost,

right when I think I need it most.

I watch the hole, a circle wide,

with nowhere left for me to hide.