Sodium and Silence

The radiator is screaming a metallic, high note

while the rest of the street is finally asleep.

I’ve got a scratchy, dry feeling in the back of my throat

and a midnight promise that I’m trying to keep.

The electric coil clicks as it starts to turn gray,

heating the red-label tin I found in the back.

It’s too much salt for the end of the day,

but I need the warmth to fill up the lack.

I pour it in a mug and sit at the sink,

watching the yellow grease ring start to form.

It’s too quiet to breathe and too loud to think,

so I just hold the ceramic until I am warm.