On the eastbound commute

to my university

at dawn

on Tuesday

the morning clouds

are not spun sugar sticky skin—

they are not the faded red

of your upturned lips


or the slippery rose of me

after us.


There are hints

a persisting hopefulness

a smattering tang

on my tongue

in my Jeep

            beyond the apartment where I left

you reaching

below our bedclothes



once the persistent golden

light claws

just past

the first of the horizon

and lifts and melts on the low sky


everything has changed.

I have already neglected my focus

I was trying to remember

the subtle

specifics of pink.

DEVON FULFORD is a writer and English instructor at Colorado State University. While most of her prior publication history has been in educational writing, she has been honored with publication of various fiction, non-fiction, and poetry endeavors in the Same literary journal, Handbasket Magazine,, and others. Devon resides on the Front Range of the Rocky Mountains with her partner Levi and their chocolate Labrador, The Walrus. She has Masters degrees in both Education and in Creative Writing, and is currently pursuing her Doctor of Education in transformative leadership. In her pockets of free time, Devon can be found riding her Triumph Street Twin, hiking with her family, and attending live musical shows.