It snows
dead leaves
and rusted dust
which inks
into the cracks
of our hands
writing futures
we can not yet read.
A landscape of
red palms.
There is no frost.
Only clumps
of white
bony cows
their teeth
nipping
on yellow fields
littered
with the empty graves
of landmines.
–
Jenny Wong is a writer, traveler, and occasional business analyst. She resides in the foothills of Alberta, Canada, and is currently attempting to create a poetry collection about locations, learn a few words in Russian, and regularly visit her local boxing studio. Her places of publication include 3 Elements Literary Review, Grain Magazine, Vallum, Sheila-Na-Gig Online, The Stillwater Review, Atlas & Alice, and elsewhere.