“Wind Chill” by Daniel Gene Barlekamp

Photo Credit: Budi Pratama

Sometimes it gets to you:
the loneliness,
the anonymity,
the cold.
And then you remember
that we’re all going to die someday,
and the noise fades
to a gentle hum of resignation
with a touch of fear.

That’s what happened to me
when I walked into the wind tunnel
that is New Providence Street
and saw the mural of Christ above St. Peter’s,
frozen solid against the twilight sky.
I felt no devotion,
only peace
as the beatings of the day scampered away
to wait their turn in the shadows.
Then I stuck my hands in my pockets
and listened to the chirping of the kiosks
(please insert your parking ticket),
soaked up the motor oil from the concrete,
and let the fluorescents burn my skin,
knowing that, one day,
we’ll all face something bigger
than that which holds us down.

Artist Statement

As a reader, I value poems that use direct, concrete language and strong imagery. I love it when a poet is able to relate a moment, large or small, from their everyday life in a way that resonates with me regardless of whether I share a similar experience. That is what I hope to do--as a mentor put it, to "tell stories about stuff that's happened to me" through poems in which readers can recognize parts of themselves or their own lives.

Daniel Gene Barlekamp is the author of poems and stories for adults and young readers. His poetry has been published by Pictura Journal, Seventh Quarry, IHRAM Press, and other magazines and has been translated into Chinese by Poetry Hall. He is on the staff of Molecule: A Tiny Lit Mag. Originally from New Jersey, Daniel now lives with his wife and son in Massachusetts, where he practices immigration law. Visit him at https://dgbarlekamp.com/.