Disaster Aesthetics

You tell yourself your skin is more than a tarp tossed over
water, and commit to the incessant performance of upkeep: 
relentless hair, fragile teeth. You burn excessive sage to force 
atmosphere, but it’s still impossible to know how birds feel. 
You open the window, climb out, walk past the blind and 
muttering saints while they grope for a finish line. You continue 
down the sloping ground. Stumble, finally, to the shoreline. 
Fill a rowboat with vanishing rabbits. Skittish creatures built 
for solid ground. Head for the horizon, crow-eyed Ophelia: 
grab the oars, steer the boat yourself, paddle toward that mirror 
line. Forget the notion of possession. Keep just a small part close: 
one rabbit head soft in the palms. You are remnant. Remind yourself:
this is enough. Jaw softens. Days of replication on the horizon. 
Inscrutable animals continue, return, in every mirrored surface.

KRISTEN HOLT-BROWNING

Kristen Holt-Browning is a poet, writer, and editor based in Beacon, New York. She has published a chapbook, The Only Animal Awake in the House, and she is a recipient of a Hortus Arboretum Residency for Literary Artists. Her first novel, Ordinary Devotion, is forthcoming from Monkfish Book Publishers.