Mechanical Night

The radiator talks in creaks and coughs,

a rusty language I pretend not to hear.

Clank, hiss, pause—arguments

between iron lungs and chilled air.

I count the knocks like fractured beats,

trying to find rhythm in the dissonance.

Fingers trace peeling paint,

cold shadows curling into corners,

and I lie awake beneath the noise,

waiting for quiet to settle like dust.