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  • Alice Wyatt

Winter Storm


I touch the bruise

that is the memory of you,

test the ache of it*


our spring and summer

has come and gone

my dancing,

daisy-like

under the warmth of your gaze,

slows, uncertain


limbs falter, heavy with doubt

my face, once oriented to your sun

droops in shame

pride hacks hesitant tendrils

hope has stretched your way







forced to choose

between continued vulnerability

and sensible self-protection,

my heart shutters,

latches tight against

the winter storm of your absence




Circe - Madeline Miller



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