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Journeys: The Literary Magazine of the Summer Residential Writing Program
The Weather Should Be Better
by Matthew Race

Snowy road and treesThe weather should better
It has frozen me from the waist up.
My fingers feel as if they are made of stone.
My arms have no rhythm
They just sway in the air like vines.
My chest is a barrier
Letting no air pass.
But I just pace onward
Thinking of a warm place to go.

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