Obsidian fenestration
In a matte of whitewashed wind
A flat pane portal into the dark
Out of the blizzard, you descend
Your eyes adjust to the black below
To find us clutching at our sheets
We shiver as we see your silhouette
This lunette lets out the heat
There's nothing left to burn
The meat will rot, the milk will turn
Our father throws his bottle at a peep
And drinks himself to sleep
My sisters and I are buried in snow
And while I don't want you to know
I need to ask, 'cause it's ten below
Will you close the window?
Will you close the window?