Pressure - Katy Keffer

Outside my window, planes land

deafening, their wings too close

to mask the sound. It’s heavy

overhead; I gaze, amazed

as hushed yells now bubble up

inside my chest, where he says,

It does no good to complain.

Inside my window, angst builds

like water, warms then boils,

a teapot balloons to pop.

Steady beats the heart, rhythms

of monotonous moments

build into blame. Years pass by.

Is this all there is, she asks.

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Katy Keffer, raised in the knobs of central Kentucky's bluegrass, is a writer inspired by nature's creatures. She is completing her MFA at Lindenwood University and lives in Reston, Virginia.