(the last conversation with Austin, revisited)
for beloved
read broken
read fleeting
burden
inured
for we
read you
for I know I forgot your birthday
read grow accustomed to absence
for home
read illness
for I’m sorry
read subterfuge
read sunlight
transference
tomorrow
for epiphany
read futile
for I’ll call you soon
read your phone will ring
read you will say “fuck”
father will cry “I know”
for invisible
read unnamed
for when your semester is over
read I am trying to be considerate
read they will not find my body until
for three
read two
for it doesn’t feel like Christmastime
read mother has purchased my favorite candies
they will fill your stocking instead
—
Elizabeth Wade holds degrees from Davidson College and the University of Alabama. She serves as Managing Editor of NANO Fiction, and her work has appeared in such journals as Kenyon Review Online, AGNI, and others. She currently teaches literature and writing courses at the University of Mary Washington. (Elizabeth Wade discusses the origin of this essay and its form on the Brevity blog.)
Photography by Michael McKniff