it's cold
the mornings freeze our words to our lips as we pore
over homework, plastic boxes of brightly dyed sugar cereal
waiting for february. it's gray
we haven't gone out for recess in forever, summer sun
like a dream you can't quite remember, we're just
waiting for february. it's icy
purple and blue jackets slipping over the sidewalks, warnings
from our phones buzzing too late in our pockets, everyone
waiting for february. it's cold
and all we can do is wait for february.
i found a binder full of photos from my preschool years,
lined paper covered in neat cursive
signed by my teachers, women who i remember the names of
and not much else. their voices were warm and the house
and there is room at our table, oh so much room we are simply
bursting with food, we are overflowing,
uniformity is not a problem in our sukkah. we can
we stayed up til one a.m. last night
thirteen girls in a living room simultaneously laughing at nothing
& yelling at each other to please please please shut up.
we had ice cream cake and hawaiian pizza
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