without central heating

Photo by Angie Shenouda

By Angie Shenouda

i’m used to layers and layers of blankets, a rainbow to burrow underneath until the quivering fades, or until i fall into a dream. snooze buttons abused, resisting the inevitable unraveling of myself into the sharp shivers of the morning. 

i’m best friends with the way my feet melt when hugged by fuzzy socks, sitting down criss-cross applesauce to slip my nubbed edges into that hot crevice behind my knees. 

how marvelous that even within a winter so violent it trembles my core and leaves my bones aching, i still have a part of myself warm enough to tuck into, safe and sound for the time being.

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