Fading Sunburns

by Matt Try

Winner of the Poetry Category!

Fading Sunburns

They reach for my hand and                           

I cling to the heat of their fingertips.

I do not let go even as hot pearls

of sweat stick us together. 

It is early September and 

the sun still burns my skin as it sets,

Leaving me pink and stinging. 

As the tenderness of sunburns fade,

our hands become separated 

by wool mittens that reek of mildew,

our faces are covered by scarves

that are damp with drops of chilled breath. 

The blistering of cheeks whipped cranberry red by wind

and the pain of icy fingers are not worth 

the holding of hands or the brush of kisses.

The distance will not be the end, but it will be 

too close for comfort.