Cold

Cold, like when you can see your breath
like when icicles surround the temple
leaves are far gone, frozen in pond.

Blue of frost on windows
weightless beauty, free
as a lark sings with opened wings.

Cold, he’s curled up under a quilt
toes are blue & frozen
he can see his breath all day long
the only freedom he knows is the sun.

He has carried his home
in a rusty metal cart
to this place,

neatly tucked away
his Belles Lettres, lingering dreams
weathered pages take flight
in temple of his mind.


Jerrice J. Baptiste is an author of eight books. Her publishing history includes The Yale Review; Kosmos Journal; The Crucible; The Caribbean Writer; The Tulane Review; The Lake Poetry Journal and many others. She was the recipient of a residency at the Omega Institute in NY, 2019.

Lark on Barbed Wire illustration by C.B. Auder (digital collage).

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