Heat death

Stars are made from collapsing clouds of gas and dust. 
The carpet has frozen under your feet, when you pace

the room water leaks out a little. Your sheets are growing 
thin from sweat, from being turned over and over in the dark.

You wake early and it’s already light, fever burning up 
the sun, which will swell, melting off the ice caps, the ground

will become lava, this isn’t part of some dream this is science. 
Anyway, all you wanted was to wash the dust from your body

but now your flatmate is talking, she’s saying have you seen, 
have you seen Rihanna, and you have.

Alexandra Hollis lives in Wellington and in 2015 completed an MA in Creative Writing at the International Institute of Modern Letters. 

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