by Kristen Holt-Browning
Anxious in this changing climate, the usual news—
refuge sought, species destroyed—leaves us hot and rattled, shook—
even the witchy birds of wellness are set to boil in their Botox denial.
Each night, like them, I smooth and tap several creams beneath my eyes,
across my neck, my forehead—rosehip, retinol, squalene, mucin—
luscious language we process before mirrors, post-traumatic.
And yet, the aesthetics disappoint—sad-clown lines sag from corners
while lips attempt a tightening poetry: come what weather, will all wither?
Repeat five times. Nothing firm remains. We’ve never understood
the moon, slipping like a mystic past our grasp. We drink so much
water, we block blue light, bleach teeth, screen the sun, affirm
that we’ll go viral forever, eternal as long as we believe it.
We shelter our skin from the aging light.
Unquenchable thirst—a warning—all night.
Kristen Holt-Browning is the author of the novel Ordinary Devotion (Monkfish Book Publishing), the poetry chapbook The Only Animal Awake in the House (Moonstone Press), and the forthcoming poetry collection Watershed (Fernwood Press). She lives in the Hudson Valley region of New York State, where she works as a freelance editor.
Emerge Literary Journal 