The words hit me hot,

like Aunt Pam’s old iron.

Heated up by white coals,

in the old wood stove.

Kissing my stupid lips with news,

I fell back, deaf and dumb, through the bathroom door.

Reaching out, flailing arms, back going diagonal I searched for something stable.

My numb fingers curled around the shower curtain.

With each pop of the rings snapping I descended deeper into chilled, darkness.

Four months later and I’m still there.

Ice cold water splashing out from the shower, it’s repelled by my body and it drops to the floor.

Maybe I’ll slip and join him when I get out.