on the inside of these walls. Spring never
did call. And summer flew south
for the winter. She’s frostbitten as the meat
in her freezer. It’s been frozen so long it

grew teeth. The floorboards are the only ones
to speak. They hiccup occasionally. But they’ll never
spill her secrets. Dust settles on them, thick as a
woolen blanket. He’s the only warmth she has. Must be

his laughter.  She melts as the words comes
out. Picks them for him as if they were
flowers. She hasn’t much of a garden. But still,
he smiles when she hands him her scant intentions.