Content Warning: Domestic Violence and Assault

Things are Louder When It’s Cold

I open my window to feel the wind,

to hear the frogs’ singing.

Winter still clings to the metal frame;

so far the frogs are silent.

The cold twines around my fingers and hair,

cold like the hands you used to grab

me, pull me to you like a whore, 

cold your grin and your eyes.

The lid cannot open when a jar sits on

the windowsill all night, metal and glass crystalized.

She tips over the ledge, gets lost in tall grass.

In the morning, the sun finds her shining pieces.

The wind understands carrying melodies on the cold,

just as the frogs understand winter’s ending. 

Your fingers find biting teeth coiled in sunlight. 

For me, the frogs start singing.

Carol Edwards is a northern California native transplanted to southern Arizona.  She lives and works in relative seclusion with her books, plants, and pets (+ husband).  Her work has appeared in numerous publications, including Space & Time, Gyroscope Review, POETiCA REViEW, and anthologies from Southern Arizona Press and White Stag Publishing.  Her debut collection, The World Eats Love, will be published by Ravens Quoth Press in April 2023. IG @practicallypoetical, FB/Twitter @practicallypoet.