Two Knocks, Then Nothing

The radiator went at two—

two knocks, a pause, then two again.

I'd been awake already, running through

the message I hadn't answered. When

the pipes started their knocking, I began

to count the gaps between each one.

No pattern I could find. No span

I could predict. When the count was done

it wasn't done—the knocking just

kept going, irregular, honest

about the heat it takes on trust

through old pipes. I'd been dishonest

for four days. The radiator

had not. Knock. Pause. The cold glass.

Me waiting out the dark. The later

it got, the more I let it pass.