I have learned to wear solitude quietly an old quilt draped over sharp shoulder blades engulfed in threadbare patches of memory that I worry with lonely fingertips

Reclaiming my inner badass at 50
I have learned to wear solitude quietly an old quilt draped over sharp shoulder blades engulfed in threadbare patches of memory that I worry with lonely fingertips
poetry is oft written by those who love too much too freely hearts splayed open on sterile dissection trays cool stainless pins trapping vulnerable fluttering
there is no need for you to summon my ghosts they always hover near shimmering afterimages at my vision’s periphery murmur low incessant in curve
I tell myself it is unexpected snow in tonight’s forecast Mother Nature’s cruel April Fools’ joke that makes my joints ache chills me to the
In memory of Lieselotte Porter 1925-2018 another empty chair another empty corner only resurrection assured this Easter morn are my ghosts who brokers the introductions?
you held me in tender embrace in your deepest heart we lived together laughed together dreamed together breathed together unfathomable that anyone could take my
Find yourself at home with unexpected time on your hands? It’s a great day to read Heavy Mental, Kindra M. Austin‘s brilliant new poetry book.
the floor stretches before me black and white checkerboard tile feet glide soundlessly to the waltz in my head my arms arched as if partnered
Originally published by the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective my heart a block of sculptured ice buried deep behind steel ribs hung with icicles offering dagger-sharp