The Channel Four Meteorologist Presages a Cold Front, Easing North


I am losing you and I feel it painfully now.
The different acquaintances, the distance
and empty texts. Worst of all is


I do not think it is affecting you
as much as me. You made your peace,
a blameless one, at that. But back


when I first moved to college, the night
it snowed and nobody was prepared,
while you were home and we could talk


without being stilted-that night I went out.
If my college was a beating heart,
then reamed down the middle


ran one street like a coronary artery,
and the first midnight it snowed, I walked
with two strangers down the white artery


devoid of cars. That bagel shop was still lit.
Its windows’ halogens tessellated
against the flurry, all the world a false


and muted color unseen by us before. Unfelt
except for in the wrongness of sleep. We walked
like ribbons across a sheet of black paper,


crossing, staggering, crossing again.


About the Author

Byron Xu is a Government and Classics undergraduate and Larry E. Temple Scholar at the University of Texas at Austin. His work has appeared in The Liberator Magazine and explores themes of doubt, neurodivergence, and theodicy.