Transmission №3

Camping in the Hoosier National Forest, Early Spring

Cole Hardman
1 min readMar 22, 2018

Five springs ago was the last
moment in March when ash-blue
snow melted in my hands
before I could roll a snowball.

It was too early for the singing
birds to be so far north,
and the only thing I heard
was your ice-cracking laugh
when you caught me
pissing your steaming name

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤinto a grey
mountain of snow piled
over the empty
ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤpulp-soft carcass

of a centuries-old dead oak.

Do you remember how I got
frostbite putting our tent up
in the freezing rain —
and my socks were soaked,
and how I nearly
burnt my gloves on the stove
making coffee in the morning?

It was worth it to hear you say,
“Fuck! It looks like I forgot
to pack my sleeping bag, but
I’ll be fine sleeping in the cold.”

Like this? You can read my short story, “March Madness,” at the link below.



Cole Hardman

I’m an engineer with a passion for poetry and literary theory.