Ice Frozen Miscarriage-Kindra M. Austin

Sometimes I imagine myself not plummeting, but falling slowly, spiraling uncontrolled into the black; the nonentity is dizzying and cold like outer space, unsympathetic. I’m only a miscarriage of wishes and wisdom, ice frozen, looking for a comet to start my heart—ignite some fucking passion.   My brain feels itchy, like heavy wet wool. I’m…

My Death Is a Great Red Pen, Correcting-Kindra M. Austin

What you want, I ain’t got; and goddamn, I have the sinking feeling that it’s happening again, as night is falling down upon me. I submerge, accordingly—   await my death. My death eradicates mistakes I’ve made, and saves. My death is a great red pen, correcting—   according to Vodka, on top of Fibromyalgia,…

The Signs-HLR

“How did you not see the signs?” when she said she couldn’t write when you began to miss her smile when she couldn’t bear the daylight when you hadn’t heard her laugh when she stopped enjoying reading when she stopped taking bubble baths “How did you not see the signs?” when you saw her wearing…