The wind is biting bare skin. Below zero, the tender parts of my ears and cheeks stiffen with cold. I am freezing and starving until I see you bare-chested on concrete, old winter coat unzipped. I imagine myself frozen to the steps. It makes me want to shake my purse upside down—rain checkbooks, Band-aids, spare change over the sidewalk. I want to go to the ATM, make it shoot out twenties like Skee-Ball tickets. Buy you cheeseburgers, and mittens, and fifths.
tends flowers for a living. She writes her best poetry while weeding someone else’s garden. Her poems can be found in Sweet: A Literary Confection, Gargoyle, and elsewhere. She lives in Southwest Michigan with her family and their rooster, Mr. Beautiful.
