I will return to the desert,
prickly heat warming my blood.
When the snowflakes failed to melt
on your shoulders, I knew it was time.
I had already lost my scarf,
lost friends who stopped calling
after a few months, lost
my great-grandfather’s prayer book
somewhere amongst your
do-it-yourself manuals, lost sleep,
lost money, lost my taste
for spicy foods and cold beer,
nearly lost my voice, and nearly
lost my footing that night
I slid down the sloped sidewalk,
leaving you frozen in that moment.
Lisa Stice received a BA in English literature from Mesa State College (now Colorado Mesa University) and an MFA in creative writing and literary arts from the University of Alaska Anchorage. She taught high school for ten years and is now a military wife who lives in North Carolina with her husband, daughter, and dog. She is the author of a full-length poetry collection Uniform (Aldrich Press).