It’s brisk
And smells like the stars are thinking of snow on my way home from ballet class.
I have leather soled shoes that make me sound like a horse on the sidewalk
And am still sweating under my trench coat. I am running late
To bake with my neighbor. We do this every week.
Tonight is lemon meringue pie,
Which comes out runny and yolk yellow, smelling like marshmallow and citrus.
We cut it before it’s cool and eat with spoons,
Standing quietly over the kitchen counter.
Outside the sky stretches thin and gray
And the sidewalks flex in anticipation of winter.
Inside, my apartment shimmers lemon yellow
And the warm scent of sugar glows,
Diffuse and golden, against the cold.
Cecilia Januszewski is a senior at Reed College in Portland, Oregon, where she studies linguistic anthropology. She is currently editing the manuscript of her first novel and has been previously published in Manuscripts, Quibble, and Quabbin Quills, where she is now an editorial board member.