cold toes in wool socks feet
sweating inside slippers that
clearly aren’t doing their job
comforting weight of the cat
spread across my lap from
knee to thigh folded and
draped from side to side like
a sun-warmed blanket
knitting needles making a trim
clicking sound when the tips
graze and nubbly yarn turning
into fabric as it slips through
my fingers spicy floral tea
growing lukewarm in a pottery
mug painted by a mystery artist
in an intricate pattern of blue
flowers and green leaves that
remind me the world will not
always remain frigid and gray
conversation on the radio in calm
public-broadcasting voices so
familiar they are almost like friends
—the ones I saw every day when
I lived and worked in a city I loved—
though since That Man took office
I’ve had to bar even NPR from
my house during the work-week
because they never stop talking
about him for an instant from
Monday to Friday dwelling on
the most bitter upsetting news
and in that way they aren’t really
like my old friends at all
(c) 2018, by Hannah Six
Image: From Radio World magazine, 1923
via Wikimedia Commons
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