Brynn Martin is a Kansas native living in Knoxville while she pursues her MFA in poetry from the University of Tennessee. She loves ee cummings and cats almost equally.
Winter and Spring 2017
In Pleasantview Cemetery My child does not sleep, so I go walking with the bones of the dead. The stroller wheels click along the path, trees frame panes of light across the rows. The plots, green and even, are misnamed, trading stories for simple verse, for peace. Granite markers shine like kitchen counters wiped clean […]
She was short, with frizzy hair, nicotine stained fingers, thick glasses and a leg brace from childhood polio. She wore mud colored tweed suits and always stood with one foot on the rung of her chair, holding grimly to the back of it as she talked. She was not the kind of person to control […]
1. Platitudes You never got tired of dressing up. Fingers familiar with the tired curvature of your hair, I run the tips of them over your shoulders and down the nape of your neck, once young. A blue bow used to hold the severity of your bun in place, constantly threatening to escape into chaos; […]