is gather emptiness like weeds
pulled from my dying garden,
bottle tears like rainwater,
like the repressed melancholy
disgorged and stored under a
bed. All I do is wither, is
hide in plain sight, is clot
in the shadow of salt pillars
and sea brine. All I do is pine
for lost keys, lost embraces—
the profoundly wasted moments
in your lonely orbit.
Brielle Kelton lives quietly in New Jersey, where she is on her feet all day at her mundane job, and reads most of the rest of the time, while stealing the off moment to write. Her micro-chapbook, "Pulse" was released in 2020, and her debut chapbook, "And when they find me..." comes out this month from Maverick Duck Press. She can assure you that her being the assistant editor of MDP gave her zero leverage. You can find her on Twitter @mydearbrielle
