"heat wave" by Quinn Christensen



mom makes iced tea every day

& i fall asleep on the couch

with the windows open.

maddie and i take walks

but only at night.

we sit on the curb,

five blocks from the tennis court -

a pause on the way home.

i tell her i want secrets,

something to keep from him.

we talk about time, art, sex.

we make new year’s resolutions

at the end of may.

i live off of lime popsicles & prednisone.

i find mosquito bites on my knuckles.

finals are coming,

the one-year anniversary of the breakup

and i want to text him

but i make a pie instead.

i make the kitchen so hot

that the rest of the house is cool by comparison.

the cat sheds.

the mind wanders.

the heart re-breaks.

i wait for rain.




Quinn Christensen is a writer and student from St. Paul, MN. Her work has appeared in Lunch Ticket, Journal of Erato and The Foredge Review. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram @quinnjillayne.

Related Posts

See All

"Brand new (almost)" by Hannah Stephings

I come out of the water, gleaming, panting and try to leave you far out at the sea amongst the foam and fishing boats. out on the pebbled shore, swaddled in a rough, peach towel I’m cleaner, brighter,

"Campfire" by Rachel Jung

The fire pulses with a hum like a bee’s and the fizz of rain-damp wood. Our drowsy eyes are drawn to where the flames lick– curled crescents of orange peel. Sparks, a mimicry of the stars crowning our