it is that lifeless feeling that starts to grow like mold under the skin mid-January
dead wasps from the summer still resting on the windowsill
their small bodies quiet

i wrap them gently in a paper towel
hear their brittle wings crack under the weight of my fingers
i will never be delicate enough for housework

you said that now the days will start getting longer
the sun will ray out from the clouds like a chorus
and spring will whisper it's way back in
softening the earth
before i know it
i want to believe you
so i clean the windows to let the light in
wipe away summer's dust
the smell of windex and skin fill my days now
never knew a streak-free shine until i met you

(i don't know if i will be real before April
but thank you for trying.
you hold me and i feel warm.)