The Setting

The hallway is a drafty throat tonight.

I’m holding my phone between my teeth,

the light hitting the thermostat on the wall.

The plastic is a milky, clouded eye.

It’s yellowed and scratched from years of use,

making the numbers a blur of gray.

A jagged crack runs right across the face,

catching the glare like a frozen bolt of lightning.

I turn the dial until I feel the click,

hoping the basement hears the signal I’m sending.

The apartment stays quiet and perfectly cold

while I wait for the pipes to start their knocking.