To Winter

by Heather Palmer

You shred
my turtlenecks.

I wore them high
and now

I long for
scooped collars,

ravage the closet,
rip stitches.

Because without
scarves and tights

I spend whole days naked.
I know what it is

you want.

Heather Palmer writes the thoughts that run. She studies at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago in the MFA writing program, and has published current or forthcoming work in elimae, No Posit, Unlikely Stories, Lark Magazine, Fiction at Work, Storyglossia. Lamination Colony, and, most recently, Omphalos. She loves Domori chocolate.

Back to Issue Two: Winter 2009