mother, sister: brother

a pungent aroma of isopropyl alcohol
and cheap cotton
punctuate the silence
stale ghosts from a cold room

it’s dark, now
city lights shudder to life
along an endless highway
searching for illumination

sweet iron and salt mingle
in my mouth
bite your tongue
my mother said
he can’t see our tears

it’s drizzling outside
my cheek melds to the cool glass
the car’s rolling vibrations
rock me to sleep

Elyse Hwang is an aspiring poet from California. She finds her words drawn to the tension of human relationships and the passage of time. You can find her work in The Sunshine Review, Hooligan Mag, and The Galliard International Review.