Wintering Over 

by Alice Jerman 

You told me you loved me as you stripped the 
Oil drum in the yard – it was empty and 
Now it’s November. Can’t let it rot in the snow. 
I love you – You said it all as I held those rusted stays. 
My fingers cold and gritty from the weather. 
The barn cat died last winter, we found her later, 
Greyed and soggy; (sobbing into the March air so this is 
Spring.) These cold nights I pull out the orange 
Brown quilts the fabric pilled and pulled, and they 
Smell like the paint job you did last autumn. Dripping mats. 
Clumps of mud and the roof needs redoing you said you felt like 
A settler. Working for the land the earth. With his woman. I just 
Pray for the darkness of night so I can lie awake staring. 
Outside, a barn owl, maybe, something meant to be there. 

Alice Jerman is a senior at NYU, studying English and Creative Writing, currently writing a Senior Honors Thesis in Contemporary Irish Poetry. While navigating through the foggy world of academic writing and reading (or: the life of an undergraduate) she retains an unabashed love for writing poetry, and would like to thank West 10th & NYU’s Creative Writing Dept for indulging her over the years.