I didn’t meet you for lunch that day because
I had to make a fucking run for it.
I had to put as much distance between me
and that place as I could.

I had to walk through the snow
Though the frozen bits blinded me with cold,
I had to see my breath in front of me.
The white vapor that meant I was still here.

I had to trudge on
with that bag on my back,
the weight of it eroding a valley
in the soft skin over my shoulder bone.

I had to be outside longer
to feel myself in the cold.
‘Til my outsides matched my insides.
‘Til I could no longer stand it.

Until there was no choice but
to go back inside,
dripping and shaking and
admit what the hell I’d gotten myself in to.


photograph by Ashim D’Silva


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Noelle Currie

I have been writing short fiction and poetry for ten years. I recently completed the second of two novels that are currently unpublished. I was the winner of The Book Doctor’s Pitchapalooza in 2013 and recipient of the Gold Medal in poetry in the Tunxis Academic and Art Challenge in 2009. I submit poetry and short fiction pieces to the creative writing website weekly. I graduated from the University of Connecticut in 2013 with a degree in vocal performance. My second love is singing opera.

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