At Least a Week
I’m all sun lamp lizard
dreaming of a warm rock
the cold draining from
my fingers and from my toes
warmth seeping in its place
but it’s not leaving
I’m ice slipping, reaching,
gripping for an arm that isn’t there
when I’ve only got streetlights
to show me the danger, and
there are no big rocks
in space that are gonna
hit us next week, so
there’s one reason
to keep looking for that
album grandpa played on
cassette in his shitty white
Taurus, red plush interior
you’ve got at least a week
to smell that dense dust, dark
winter, kentucky thunder night
dreaming of a warm rock
the cold draining from
my fingers and from my toes
warmth seeping in its place
but it’s not leaving
I’m ice slipping, reaching,
gripping for an arm that isn’t there
when I’ve only got streetlights
to show me the danger, and
there are no big rocks
in space that are gonna
hit us next week, so
there’s one reason
to keep looking for that
album grandpa played on
cassette in his shitty white
Taurus, red plush interior
you’ve got at least a week
to smell that dense dust, dark
winter, kentucky thunder night
Zoe Aldrich is a writer who has only ever lived in Missouri. She's previously been published in a handful of undergraduate magazines, and is desperately trying to befriend a squirrel.