by Ayesha Chatterjee

That day, when you said,
“Summer’s coming.” Snow
piled on either side of us, barrier
against the rest of the world, nowhere
to go but forward or back.
Our selves deeply hidden
by choice, by the deliberate
donning of excess.

The things we don’t know until it’s
too late, almost.

Is it?

Summer is coming.
Where I’m from, we
close our curtains to the sun.

— from Juniper Volume 4, Issue 1