warm in january

a few winter weeks in and i am
surrounded by so much spring.

mornings are dusk and then lemon
before turning into obsidian by four pm.
once, the sky melted into rivers of grey
and there was a blizzard warning and
we drank beer in your kitchen.
most things feel like that, and i
remember how the streets were wet
with rain and honey after.

i’ve been thinking about niceness
even in swirling things, even in static insides.
coffee shop eyes, voice like candlelight,
a laugh in a crowded room. a soft tangerine hue.

when the rooftops are drenched in pink,
there is a promise of never falling flat.

By Anna Xie

Featured in Basement Babes, Issue 13