Cleopatra’s Icebox

by Drew Pisarra

Like most refrigerators, I run alone.
Ignoring the cowardly order of things,
the cluttered shelves and two empty drawers
that make up this life, I shut the one door
that leads to the hallway of strangers.
My friends left hours ago. Some say, years.
I now fondle the asp of Egypt as if
it were a joke. But it’s still got fangs.
Put your hand in the icebox and see
for yourself. Cold brings a pleasant end.