Matthew Dischner

It is 10° F and my mustache is frozen,
exhaled condensation frosting my upper lip,
but still my jacket is undone
and I’m wearing shorts.
My life is white noise;
a steady howling of fans,
the scraping of ice on aluminum,
and my own growled exasperations
as I throw around 40 lb. boxes
of Mandarin orange chicken.

About the Author

A disciple of the experimental humanities and freelance historian, Matthew Dischner’s writings mix his passion for poetry, deep historical knowledge, and obsession with the natural world. A graduate of NYU’s recently transformed Draper Program, Matthew splits his time between the Virginia wine industry and working as a tutor and college admissions coach. You can read his other works at