Brian Austin

In My Sleep

Tuesday comes every seven days, I thought
Like a therapist in training—but I wasn’t waiting
She died in my sleep
Like the first frost or
All the matriarchs in our family
Like a child, afraid of my own fingernails
I laid in the field overgrown with goldenrod
Someone could use this, I thought
Although I didn’t know
If it would help

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Brian Austin is a poet and alchemist living in a town of 500 people in rural Illinois. He roasts coffee by hand in his barn and drinks tea made from the weeds growing in his yard. Themes of grief, addiction, and isolation are present in his work. His poems have previously been published by The Horizon Magazine, Bruiser, and Backroom Poetry.