The humidifier spits clouds,
breathing all night to keep blood inside
dry bodies. In the corner, a filter
softens the edges of winter air (visions
of cat litter, mold in perforated
walls, dust). January is for boiling
water, dragging pens over yellow paper.
We listen to the furnace and quietly
love our quiet things. Together, we will
breathe all night to keep blood inside
each other. We will love wildly, glad for
softened edges of winter air.
Max Orr teaches English in Columbus, Ohio. He is the winner of the 2019 William Redding Memorial Poetry Contest, and his work has appeared or is forthcoming in Maudlin House, Modern Poetry Quarterly Review, and Pudding Magazine.
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