Absence by Kristine Brown

breathing, pallid, passively tremulous. feet crunching into October leaves beneath her cuticles, torn with premature age.

eyelids crinkled :: skin still smooth.

rosary—a confidante—is piercing her palm till it’s rosy with warmth, saving strength
amidst the snowflakes seen in a haze; souvenirs kept from travel to Tears.

watching behind the austere oak—its bark like glass, icy and stern. her eyes seem to find me, though I—I am nothing in her mind.

she never would have known me, this awkward lamb I have become.

trying to picture myself in her shell—that body, so brittle, and still withstanding the impact of angst’s exhalations, punctures so deep that my dear, Heaven is yours.

gracefully, wistfully, subtly, listless. finger of the promise ring—caressing the stone
granite pinnacles and chaste, white pledges.

rocks still glisten in dirtied Tears.

nails quite short, broken, scratched, but profound as they trace the words of his stay.
murmuring hopes that she’ll lie there so timely, compelling her—the best are buried with smiles.

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On the weekends, Kristine Brown frequently wanders through historic neighborhoods, saying "Hello" to most any cat she encounters. Some of these cats are found on her blog, Crumpled Paper Cranes (https://crumpledpapercranes.com). Her creative work can be found in Hobart, Queen Mob's Teahouse, Burningword Literary Journal, Sea Foam Mag, Philosophical Idiot, Thought Catalog, among others, and acollection of flash prose and poetry, Scraped Knees, was released in 2017 by Ugly Sapling.