Draft Protection

The radiator is a cold iron lung

and the window frame has a gap

where the November air is wrung

into the room like a trap.

I dug through the closet to find the wool,

heavy and smelling of floral soap.

I gave the edge a desperate pull

and wrapped up my last bit of hope.

There’s a yellow moth-hole near the hem,

a jagged circle where the light gets through.

It looks like a map of the world back then

when the bed was shared with you.