Freezing Point

My insides and outsides
move at separate speeds.

This is the space I come back
to, when we are still

in motion. But there is no
traction on ice.

The impact is the same
as the day you stopped

holding my hand. The seatbelt
caught, the physical

weight of me yanked back.
The thermometer reads

thirty-two degrees. Cold enough.
What’s liquid becomes solid.


About Mary Kibbe

Mary Kibbe is a writer and massage therapist living in Portland, Oregon.
Bookmark the permalink.

Comments are closed.