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Spring's First Light
TL;DR A prose poem about a single night in North Philadelphia that thawed a decade of winter — an ode to touch without possession.
I had been winter for ten years, a house without lamps, a field with the wind walking in it and nothing else, my ribs a gate that refused to open. Then the city rose—brick and stoop and late siren— and you stepped out of the streetlight as if the light remembered you before I did, as if my name were a door and you knew the hinge.

Read more here:
https://jeffreyfreeman.me/blog/springs-first-light/

#Poetry & Literature #Freemo