the news comes over the television like
greasy smoke and chatter
a "new" relationship with the Persian’s of Iran
everything ancient is new again
there is warm coffee on my desk
in a tall, hand-painted mug
my tawny-tabby cat is in her routine…watching me
it is four o’clock in the morning, and I am in mine
I am at my desk...writing
it is chilly in the room, I reach for my hoodie
the radiators come to life, hissing…spitting steam
rising from the cold point in the heating cycle
it is well-below zero in the January morning
the thermostat told the furnace to turn itself on
such small devices, with so few moving parts
you can hardly call them machines...but they are
sensing the temperature, triggering electrons
flowing along a copper wire down into the dark
to the asbestos covered octopus
the monster in my basement
the flame comes to life, water boiling in the golems belly
steam rises through the pipes like blood through the extremities
expanding and clanking and whistling through the valves
Kitty takes an interest in the noise
as the radiators warm she turns toward one
to snuggle, curling up with her cast iron friend
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