balasana tender square in an ache for darkness, i fell to my knees in child’s pose, a silent lamentation witnessed only by the washer and dryer. the hot tears fell, but no more than what were necessary, no less than what was deserved. and as my hand groped for a foreign entity, my fingers unabashedly grazed a black rectangle, something hard and physical on the floor. i rose, turning the faceplate over in my hands. it read, “comfortmaker,” a fallen name from the furnace, my heart stunned and circulating steady. 211003 ... unhinged when i need hugs but have no one to give them to me 211003 what's it to you? who go blather from