My heart lives in a ranch house

my heart left
got into its car, drove 
26 miles away. it
lives in a ranch house 
during the winter–
hides from the cold
and leaves me bare. 
in spring it’ll return 
to my body–
we’ll be warm again. 
when it’s too hot,
it’ll retire to the
ranch house– 
a shield from
things too bright 
that leaves my 
skin red. i’m 
frozen and burnt 
all at once.

AVA J. CAMARGO

Ava J. Camargo is a graduate student from New Jersey. Her work has appeared in The Allegheny Review, Same Faces Collective, and Soup Can Magazine.