Tiffany Lee Brown | And we

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the last friend leaves.
the imprint of her daughter’s
swish-and-fall remains
on the ice sheet outside the
garage door. these are
good sports, these
friends, to fall and laugh.

enacting the deep silence
of solo home: i stand in my
slippers and listen.

constant thrum of HEPA filters.
staccato burst of water-churn
from the new washing machine.
scritchyhoo of fluorescent light
over the stove (quickly dispatched).
the endless torture of an
electric mouse that is
tinnitus.

whisper, whisper the
trees in snow. outdoors i
will eavesdrop in my thin
cold boots, i will brave the
squirrel-chirp and high
airplane-breath, the soft
complaint of pine-needle
floor, the repetitive
demands of this wood’s
sole raven, she who wheels
overhead.

this, all these, and i—
never alone, even
after goodbye.

Tiffany Lee Brown is a writer, editor, and interdisciplinary artist in Oregon. Her writing has appeared in Utne, Tin House, Slow Trains, Art Access, Oregon Humanities, the Northwest Edge anthologies, and various other places over the years. For more of her work, please visit tiffanyleebrown.com.

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