i think the cold is punishing me

BEE LB

because i think everything is punishing me.
silence. sound. consistency. absence.
the burning numb on the tip of my nose
my nail beds, all ten of my toes.
the wind whipping through the edges
of my windows and doors. my unmade bed
and its frozen sheets. the blue
of the lake at night. the burnt haloes
of light all around. it’s like someone painted the world
but no one did.
and i’m here and i have to live in it.
a sentence i wish was unwarranted. a metaphor
i wish were less true.
everything here echoes. my movement
and that below me, water above me,
the slow leak i gave to the room beneath me,
the howling both outside and inside.