32 Degrees – Poem by Ali Grimshaw


The quiet between us
like floating icebergs
frostbit tongues in stillness.

Is it that we have forgotten what to say
misplaced our formula to speak,
a habitual slow retreat to safety?

“What are you thinking about?”


I am uncertain how to start the
defrost cycle.

© Ali Grimshaw 2019

First shared on The Drabble


21 thoughts on “32 Degrees – Poem by Ali Grimshaw

      1. It can be too late at times, Ali. For real. A recent post of mine is about a death of a 20 year old young man at the gym I attend which shocked me to my soul. It’s good now that we have time and have a pulse, to make sure those old habits of frost we undo with love. Hope you had a beautiful day!


  1. “Nothing” is about the weightiest reply I’ve ever heard … the opposite of the word’s meaning … and one is left to fill in the remainder “… that I want to discuss with you” … “that I can admit even to myself” … so many possibilities, and probing seems to drop that 32 degrees down below 0!
    You’ve captured the essence of communication’s demise. Ouch, but well said.

    Liked by 2 people

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