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. Thank you so much Amy. I think there is so much love to be spoken but we so often get stuck in habits that feel like being frozen. Luckily it is never too late to learn. Have a beautiful day.

      Liked by 1 person

      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.

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