28 degrees apart

Written by Molly Knox
Art by Liza Summer


Scuttle back. serene and tense over some scampering, funny thing–
my laundry perhaps. Beaten odors of heat and silence
seized in some hazy rays (our last chuckle into the golden morning). Will I hold them?

a squinted tear rinsed on yellow fading lines,
those steps: the heaviest
smile I’d climbed
before the punch
that let my hands sink from yours.