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The Second Half of Winter

Poem by Hannah Holbert

Car headlights in poem by Sandra sortwell makau

The Second Half of Winter

January swallowed me
With my claws and my plans
and dreams
My thrashing
Like feeble beats
Of broken wings

And it’s just as cold
inside as it is out
Can cracked nails and crumpled papers
and a bleeding heart still
Build a fire?

About the Author – Hannah Holbert

Hannah Holbert

Hannah Holbert is a 28 year old poet born and raised in Kansas, and currently living in New York City. While she primarily expresses herself through poetry and fiction, Hannah also enjoys getting lost in any and all forms of storytelling. Hannah works from home as a veterinary technician and is currently finishing her degree in English at Southern New Hampshire University, where she hopes to continue her passion for writing and poetry.

Keep Reading…

  • Propagation
    I wake to her fingers on my cheek, heavy and sweet-smelling. My body protests with a sharp yawn as I take her in through the sleep haze. Leg cramp? Nightmare? Do I need to change the sheets?
  • Prologue: Milagros’ Story
    Milagros had never climbed a tree in her life, her father wouldn’t allow it. Just as he had forbidden her from going with her cousin to the concert tonight. She swallowed the lump in her throat and kicked off her sandals to make the climb easier.
  • Cold Comfort
    Mom died on Tuesday. On Friday she returned. I slept until eleven that day (it had been increasingly hard to get out of bed). When I finally shuffled into the kitchen, I saw her.
Meanwhile, at Dreamers…

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