• Melinda Dubbs (she/her)


You’ve already crept out of bed

by the time the smell of your instant coffee

awakens me to this early February morning.

It’s too chill to be brave

and get up without a comforter

wrapped around the body.

It engulfs me in down and

a lingering smell of laundry soap.

Outside snow is melting into fog

and it floats between tree branches

and muddied earth.

The birds are lazy singers today

but a mother deer and her doe

nibble on the grass field,

mom glancing towards our cottage

through the low mist

as if she can see through the blinds.

She doesn’t see you come up behind me,

as you squeeze me in your forearms.

The comforter falls

to the worn wood floors in silence

and now there’s nothing but wool socks

between us.

As you cup me in your hands,

a warmth fills this drafty house,

fills this winter day,

and I begin to soften into you.


Cover Image by Madison Case. Edited by Caitlin Andrews.