The Maintenance Log

He looked at me like I was bored.

Like I was inventing a sound

just to see his face in the doorway.

'Pipes settle,' he said,

shrugging his heavy coat.

The door clicked shut.

And then the iron went silent.

The heat drained out of the room

like blood from a finger.

A single drop of rust-water

hit the floorboard—tink.

I’m standing in the cold

waiting for a witness

who will never show up.