Hot Blood

A bluebottle flies around our bedroom,

even though it’s winter outside – sub zero

and central heating turns and soon clicks off

tonight; you wouldn’t want to be that creature

buzzing in a slowly freezing world

now, would you, when there’s no help to offer?

Tomorrow we’ll arise unlike our insect-friend,

unfeeling sheets and duvet, balmy blood;

that’s the difference – inner warmth

we share with others, keeping humans soft,

un-insect like:

and hot.