Cold Metal Lungs

At night the radiator breathes,

clanks and hisses like an old man

trying not to wake the room.

Steam curls from chipped white paint,

a lazy serpent in the cold air.

Each groan pulls the silence taut,

a mechanical pulse in the dark,

half comfort, half warning.

The uneven breath fills the stillness,

metal lungs fighting frost,

a crooked rhythm

I count to keep awake.