often, the women of experience,
the girls of thirty years, the mothers.
they would take the time to remind me
that a gun has been angled
dozens of times at my upturned face.
but our God is a kindness,
too poor to buy me the ammunition
that was licensure enough
to pontificate on and on,
questioning the childless
who still collect swans to this day.
ambition in glass, paperweights
stuffed with quotes stressing freedoms,
undressing the immobilized elders
who say they want the best
for me, and not for me
but rather, the unborn baby
I am too frightened to visualize
because I know myself enough
to admit my fear of revolving doors.
About Kristine Brown
When not writing web content for small businesses, Kristine Brown makes the most of old magazines through mixed media art. She prefers her pancakes without syrup and takes photos of neighborhood cats featured on her blog, Crumpled Paper Cranes. Her writing appears or is forthcoming in Hobart, Vending Machine Press, Eunoia Review, Burningword Literary Journal, among others. Scraped Knees, her first collection of poetry and flash prose, was released in early 2017 through Ugly Sapling.