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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.


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.


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