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Pressure Drop Air slips in between the cobwebbed spaces, under the chair where only dust and a half-light reside, over the countertops, past the pickle jars which contain last decade's silences. I hear it whistle, make the house groan as it infuses sky into the grains of the wooden boards under my feet. The rug crumples under my weight; it yields for it has nothing to lose. I feel the softness sink in. 
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Kristine Ong Muslim lives in Maguindanao, the Philippines. Her work has appeared internationally in such publications as Noneuclidean Caféé, Syntax, Chronogram, The Bellevue Literary Review, and Turnrow.  |
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