THREE POEMS by R.S. BRANDRIFF
road closure: we welcome you
—a bright spot on the side
of the hill, steep
drop on the other. Add a
visual component
to the white snowy
mountains,
show some technical ability, paint
the canvas with God—hiss
like you can do
better—
and all that is lost there we will find together
fuck society, I’m going to be a hermit in the mountains
as long as
a forest of firs
has to be at work by six,
even ancient gods
can not dream the world
or feel a wish into being –
the impression of
absolute power
lovers’ walk
“It’s not perfect,”
anguish whispers in her ear.
“It’s exactly right.”
Tremors, huddled up,
a trace of
regret
on her breath.
“What is it, my
darling? Are you
unhappy in love?”
R. S. Brandriff (they/he/she) is a writer, poet, and software developer living in the American Southwest with their two cats and far too many coffee mugs. They write about love, neurodivergency, and the apocalypse, with poetry upcoming from Sledgehammer Lit and Zenith Lit Mag, and you can find them on Twitter @_hedgebones writing microfiction, and on their website, hedgebones.com.