cold war

the wind blew so muscular
last night, i felt the window panes
pushing back against the current
of air that was coming at them
so furiously. they wanted to break,
from the outside in, crumble into shards
and fall onto the floor beside my bed.

the glass stood intact.

and now the snow hasn’t stopped.
it has built itself, concrete like,
around the corners of my windows,
supporting them, as if giving relief
from the forces they had sustained.

i breathe and fog blurs my view.
i wipe away frost with fingertips
and search for color to contrast the
white, grey, and ash that hangs in the air.

i see nothing but colorless hues.
i forget the windows completely.

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