Sarah Kobrinsky


A young couple argues unabashedly on the corner. We are nowhere near as brave. 
We don’t dare air our grievances with one another outside, though I wish we 
would. When others hear, it no longer belongs to us—the thing that ignited us in 
the first place. The city absorbs our voices until they lose their power. Was it you, 
was it me? no longer matters. I see it happening now. From here, their fury looks 
so small, waning further with each sharp word. Who will give in or give up first? I 
close the window and come to you.