ELEGY, TWO YEARS LATER

Not so much the cold gets in, but the heat
goes out of this ramshackle house.  I know
that much but don’t believe it.  And belief
won’t keep the cold out and won’t plug the leaks.
I’ve installed storm windows and stuffed rags
in door cracks.  I let morning light shine
through east facing  windows and shutter them
at night—commonsense things.  Still, cold leaks in.
December’s chill tide, drawn by the moon
and vacuum you left, seeps through the floorboards,
pools in the corners, and laps up the stairs,
until I retreat to the wreck of your room
and wonder—the closest I come to prayer—
are you warm out there, beyond the world’s rim?

Edison Jennings directs the English Department at Virginia Intermont College.  His poems have appeared in Kenyon Review, Southern Review, Southwest Review, Poetry Daily, Slate, TriQuarterly, and a variety of other journals or anthologies.