Tag: Bailey Kittle

73 Degrees

Midwinter,
When a Tennessee breeze
Brings a lull to our chilled
Misery,
I step outside.
73 degrees and dropping,
I am waiting
For memory to melt me
Dethaw the deep-freeze
Seeping
Inside my skin.
At 73 degrees and climbing,
I thought ice could never
Creep in through
Our fault lines. Abigail would walk
From Barrett Drive to meet me
As I walked Fairview
And we met awkwardly
And easily
In the middle.
73 degrees and steady,
I was a girl who felt
As strongly as any girl
Of sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen now and don’t know how it all
Turned
Cold.
My Honeysuckle changed to Henbit
Far too late
To fall out of love with its fake taste.
73 degrees and dropping now—
I’ve learned to wear a coat at last
Against our Tennessee breeze.
I slip my flip-flops from my feet
And surrender my skirts to warmer days.
I love the warmth I keep with me—
But tomorrow
I must protect it.
63 degrees,
53 degrees,
40, and dropping.

NOVUS Literary and Arts Journal
Lebanon, TN