Leaving Home

naked & brittle trees

stand tall against the stretched out

cotton ball clouds

a frigid & unforgiving wind

makes my cheeks flush

and my nose numb.

the fury of

my mother’s soul

seems to stem straight

from the concrete,

stabbing my feet

snaking up my bare legs like vines.

the cold glides its way to my heart

latches on with a vice grip

that leaves me gasping for breath.

still, I march away

from my childhood home,

ignoring the snow

that has begun to fall

in the middle of July.