the gas

the furnace
won't stay lit.
the gas
seeps out into the air.
misting
into rooms,
into our lungs as
we sleep.
we need the fire
to burn
it off.
we shiver
in our bed and listen
to the vents
empty
of wind.
we wonder what the house
is telling
us,
whispering to us
about who once lived
here.
we take a match
down the dark
steps and pray.