EASTERN IOWA REVIEW
  • Home
    • About Us
    • Masthead
    • Port Yonder Press >
      • Chapbooks
    • Eastern Iowa Review
  • Guidelines
  • Current Issue
    • Issue 16 - Come, Wander
  • Past Issues
    • Lyric Essay Issues >
      • The Lyric Essay
      • Issue 10 - Spring 2020
      • Issue 8 - Spring 2019
      • Issue 7 - Print Anthology
      • Issue 6 - 2018
      • Issue 3 - 2017 >
        • Editors Note - Issue 3
      • Issue 2 - 2016
      • Issue 1 - 2015
    • Themed Issues >
      • Issue 15 - Love
      • Issue 14 >
        • Those Elves - Origin Story
        • Those Elves - The Collection
      • Issue 13 - Winter
      • Issue 12 - Water
      • Issue 11 - Hope in Renewal (An Intermission)
      • All Things Anne - Issue 9
      • Issue 5 - The SmartApocalypse
      • Issue 4 Contributors & Samples
  • 3 Sisters Awards
    • The Christine Prose Poetry Award
    • Dory Ann Fiction Award
    • Maggie Nonfiction Award
  • More
    • The Prose Poem
    • Fictions >
      • Contemporary Mystery
      • Dark Fiction
      • Debut Fiction
      • Fan Fiction
      • Honorable Mentions
      • Literary Fiction
      • Mythical Fiction
      • Speculative Fiction
      • Woods-Western-Mountain-Appalachian
      • Young Author
      • Unclassifiable
    • Prizes
    • Interviews
    • List of Contributors
(PROSE POETRY)

INEFFABLE

​KRISTEN HOLT-BROWNING

​Days pass, everything is swim lessons, dandelions cracking the driveway’s edge. All the world’s a task to be Google Calendared. Who sustains it? The electric rush and glide, I mean, the deep currents over which we float, the tides that bring us babies, then carry them back out into their own dark seas. Days pass and I am Play-Doh, left unlidded on the floor, exposed to air, gone stale. Days pass but they are not days, they are soccer matches and peanut butter. Cold waffle, saxophone. But also, one of those days, I am a fancy tea party. I am extra honey licked off the spoon. I knead my own fingers until they tingle. Summon that blood and flow. I’m no god, I birth children and dentist appointments. I scoop an ant off the countertop, into my warm and pulsing palm, convey it lordly out the back door, release us onto the everyday grass.

Kristen Holt-Browning is a freelance editor and writer based in the Hudson Valley of New York State. Her poems, short stories, and creative nonfiction pieces have been published in Juxtaprose, Necessary Fiction, and Tahoma Literary Review.
All rights reserved.
© 2012-2023, Port Yonder Press LLC
6332 - 33rd Avenue Drive, Shellsburg IA
www.PortYonderPress.com