DISTANCE

is the way your absence
makes my bone marrow gnaw.

Like the fault line widening
in my back, the way it splits

to remind me that we are still
separate things.

Space is difficult. How about
a room that spends 5 years trying

to empty itself. Dust in your eyes.
Your hands opening everything

like fresh wounds. Distance. The
way we act like it never happened.

Like your savings on a ticket.
A plane ride to Chicago.

Your hands on a body.
Your hands on her body.

By Karese Burrows

Biography:

Karese Burrows is a 23 year old poet and graphic designer from The Bahamas. She’s had works published by Words Dance Publishing, Rising Phoenix Review and was published in the inaugural issue of Penstrike Journal. She has upcoming publications in Issue 2 of L’Éphémère Review. You can visit her tumblr at fluerishing.tumblr.com.