next door through our too-thin walls hear me serenade the vodka croon through wisps of smoke that they can’t see (but they’ll smell outside). at night they’ll hear me scratch the walls hammer in time with my heart smash vases tables mirrors on the walls howl words they don’t know. whistle in the morning set off the fire alarm. they’ll hear me scream in the night shout no at men who aren’t there.
BIO: Elizabeth Train-Brown is a circus performer and award-winning journalist, studying Creative Writing at Lancaster University. She is the Editor at TL Publishing, Poetry & Fiction Editor for Flash Literary Journal, Poetry Staff Writer at Saturdaze Magazine, and winner of the 2020 Literary Lancashire Award. Her work has been published in over 20 journals and anthologies, including Planet in Peril (Fly on the Wall Press, 2019), Allegro, Blue Marble Review, The Cannon’s Mouth, Defunkt Magazine, Abridged, and Crossways Journal.
https://bethtrainbrown.journoportfolio.com/