The First Frost
by Tiffany Washington
For my Love
Foggy street lights
by the only bench
I can see outside my window
illuminate a morning not quite ready.
Pen in hand, I wait for rusty words
(once poetic) that now slip
between mortgages
and dentist appointments.
It is this morning when I finally
understand my grandmother’s
desire to never leave the house.
Now I see the decision
to stay below the window
whenever anyone knocked.
It is in this morning
I finally fear this world
that makes some women widows,
too young,
after too-quick stops
on highways during rush hour.
My only consuming thoughts:
You. Here. With me.
(Protected from this outside world,
past this door that only has one key
and is always locked.)
Foggy street lights
by the only bench
I can see outside my window
illuminate a morning not quite ready.
Pen in hand, I wait for rusty words
(once poetic) that now slip
between mortgages
and dentist appointments.
It is this morning when I finally
understand my grandmother’s
desire to never leave the house.
Now I see the decision
to stay below the window
whenever anyone knocked.
It is in this morning
I finally fear this world
that makes some women widows,
too young,
after too-quick stops
on highways during rush hour.
My only consuming thoughts:
You. Here. With me.
(Protected from this outside world,
past this door that only has one key
and is always locked.)
Tiffany Washington is an English teacher and poet. She and her wife spend most of their time doing their best to raise four thoughtful, caring, human beings (or at least to prevent them from killing each other during social distancing). Her works have appeared in a number of print and online publications including: Shot Glass Journal, Sinister Wisdom, Thimble Magazine, The Raven Review, Night Picnic, and Rumble Fish Quarterly.