The Florida House
In warmer months you’d fold and wedge away
our full-bodied down comforter and shake open
the knitted tweed throw from the foot of the bed.
You’d lay it over us the next six months, so light
I thought I’d float away in my sleep, and perhaps
you hoped I would. Never mind you kept things
glacial all year round, or that my toes were frozen
peas between the sheets; Summer was knocking,
and I knew you as a married woman, committed,
if not to me, then to the seasons. For as long as I
loved you, you kept every single promise to July.
Eliza Fixler (she/her) is a Social Work student and poet based in Pittsburgh, PA. Previous poems have been published in mutiny! magazine, GASHER, Penumbra Literary and Art Journal, and Poetry Super Highway. Follow her on Twitter: @ElizaFixler.
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