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​

SHANE VANDE BRAKE
​

LEFT COLD


The heartbreak shatters the fragile vessel, waiting to rediscover herself once again. An aged body never quite looks as appealing as the svelte youth. Love is what makes people feel that this life is worth living but its companion, desire, is often overlooked. The attractive young vixen was sought after years ago but now sits alone, her body untouched. She weaves her way with words and weighty aspirations that encumber and saddle her soul, a cake that never gets frosted or eaten left on the table as a grim reminder. The plant in the corner loses its leaves as the lack of sun reminds her that she has no hope of bygone days. Wine glass in hand comforts the coldness that the bitter winter storm brings juxtaposed by the warm green tea filling the empty void. Ballet slippers glide effortlessly across the floor in a futile attempt to recapture the beauty she used to be. The water freezes as it hits the pavement, her frostbitten fingers no longer able to feel. The winter has come, freezing any chance for feelings to resurface. The woman sleeps alone, no blanket to cover up her frigid body and soul.


Shane Vande Brake is a wife, mother of three, Christian educator, and editor. Whenever possible, she is helping students with their writing projects as well as inspiring her own children to write well and frequently. An avid reader, Shane seeks beauty and brokenness in the written word. Having earned her Ph.D. in Spanish literature, her reading and writing are often bilingual.
All rights reserved.
© 2012-2023, Port Yonder Press LLC
6332 - 33rd Avenue Drive, Shellsburg IA
www.PortYonderPress.com