Room Temp

The door hit the frame with a hollow crack.

I watched the ice slide through the black

gap beneath the fridge's base.

I can't find the words or a steady face

to bring the afternoon back.

The wood grain swells where the water stays.

It's been an hour of these quiet ways.

The cube is gone, just a shiny streak,

making the floorboards soft and weak,

lost in the kitchen's haze.