A Day In For twenty-four hours, everything was strawberries, sweet on my tongue. Snow blanketed the ground as we ate seasoned meatballs. I think of Union Square and the best truffle gnocchi I’ve ever had. Outside, people shovel their cars from the depths and drive away, their lights like the heads of flies. I wonder if they can see me from the window. I could miss so many faces if I forget to look backwards. I could miss a whole cathedral. I could forget to miss his face while I talk of love all day. I’m slowly tricking myself. At least my skin is allowed to be naked. Tingling like carbonated lemonade under my hands. The forgetting makes me fearful of easy smiles, scared of feeling cold red flowers resting on my chest.
Megan Lee is a student studying law. She enjoys writing poetry in her spare time.