it was such a tiny place
in a corner of the world
where the shadows hide
and the roaches settle
between toes for warmth
where it was possible to hear
snatches of conversation
easily cloaked behind
self preservation
in a corner behind the settee
with the side table bearing
a bowl of fruit
for sustenance
in such a small corner
it was conceivable
that the words the floated out
from the darkness were fashioned
from the coldest season
but there was no need
to eject what was hidden in the dark
where there was only reason