The Cottage on Beauchamp Point

by Olivia Nathan

Straining to hear the rain

from this cold bed,

beneath an electric blanket that’s not plugged in.


Was today about love or leaves?

I couldn’t tell.


Unraveling the braids in my hair

brought me closer to the lapping water on the yachts.

And the growing, falling

laughter from his gray suit jacket mouth.


Swear I hear it from this damp bed,

but not the rain.

fallpoeambbite(Photo courtesy of the writer herself)

Olivia Nathan is a junior at Barnard and an opinion editor for Barnard Bite.


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