Marbles

Kindra M. Austin – Shake your head. Feel them rattle.

Memories are marbles

banging against one another,

and bouncing off the walls of my skull.

I’m scrambled brains with a side of ketchup.

You were the same as I am.

Or I am the same as you were—

you’re dead.

Dead. What an ugly word.

Dead. Dead.

DEAD.

My mother is dead.

I’m scrambled brains with a side of ketchup, and

you’ll never again call me your baby girl. The sound of

your voice is just another marble…

© Kindra M. Austin

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