Français, non


I did not know it was the last one. Could not savor. I traced skyscrapers along leather. You sucked on ice cubes. Behind us was a crowd. Minus applause. The lake was not completely frozen. Animals slipped. Ducks swam in circles. Not knowing where to go. If I made one list it would repeat your name.


He used to crush me. All of his weight moving to his upper body. So that I could not breathe. He stood tall and held hard but touched soft. In a way that overwhelmed. I felt pressure on both sides of my heart. As though the chambers were making room for more of him.


I sat too quietly. Did not make sudden movements. Feeling the strain of the left arm. The purple blue ink spots deepen every day. Reminding me of nothing.

3 lines:

There is an unpredictable burning that begins at the base of the throat.

Encapsulate (I referred to drowning).

The throat wins.

Sara Burns grew up on the great Mississippi. While studying at the University of Iowa, she took several creative writing courses taught by students of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. After graduating, Sara ventured out west to Colorado to work in a bookshop, which somehow led to a career in catastrophe insurance. She now works for a translation company, picking up Polish and Lithuanian on a daily basis. She also writes. And writes. And writes.