shiver

By Amaya Knox

fall

is postcards

kisses

and hot chocolate

leaves brown

skin brown

solange brown, alemeda

is a lover i don't know too well,

yet

is unfamiliar territory

that feels like home

distant, closed, comfort

is

that cluster of ladybugs

i pretend doesn’t exist

like loose laundry

on my bedroom floor

is oddly warm weather

or perhaps it's not meant to be

cold at this time

is something off

that might be a question

or perhaps i don't understand

seasons, change

but feeling is

all i need—then there’s

remembering my forgetting

and remembering why i forgot

all i need—is bone, vinyl, trees and

fall is the silence before the storm

or maybe it's already started

you’re not quite sure till it's over

you really hope there's an end

but soon it will be your mother’s birthday, pisces 

and ‘you’ begins

at the s and renews at the g of

spring

Amaya Knox ‘26 (ak114) intends to make this poem a part of a composition with the constraint that every piece begins and ends with a season. Alternate titles to ‘shiver’ were ‘winter’ and ‘first snow.’ From the December 2022 issue.