Fossil

Jenn Monroe

She wants to wear the red socks with
the white snowflake and I say just don’t tell
anyone. It is a warm October, bright
leaves hold tight, refuse release until
hard frost. On my run I think yes, I am
ready for snow

because I missed our last season
of shortest days buried in my own
darkness. Then, she twisted her thin
two-year-old hair into knots, pulled it
out, left it on my pillow as if I could climb
up and out. This year

I wish amber forgiveness will trap
our moments whole, suspend them,
so she will not notice those pock marks
in our past, rough imprints of only bone.

Jenn Monroe is the author of Something More Like Love (Finishing Line Press), executive editor of Eastern Point Press and Extract(s): Daily Dose of Lit, and an editor/educator for Eastern Point Lit House. Her poems have been published in a number of print and online journals and nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She lives in New Hampshire. You can find her on the web at www.thepoetgirl.com.