Imprint/Aloof – by CRISTINA BURLACU

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I drove to the beach again today

and walked by the water,

just to see my feet marking

the wet sand.

I watched how

it molded

to every curve of my soles,



I stepped on it without restraint and,


it cupped my skin,

sculpting itself,

lavishing on my harsh feet its voluptuous devotion.

It reminded me of him.

It always does…


The wind rose in the fields,

ruffling the hairs on his forehead.

The scraggly tree against his back

cracked like

the bones of a wise old man.

In the bottle between his fingers

the unforgiving liquid



and its smell surrounded him,

riding him

with the rowdy determination of

a thousand wild horses.

«You’ll end up all alone» she’d said,

rolling dough into submission,

her hands never faltering.

The taste of whiskey


in the back of his throat,

mixed with

the deriding memory of

pecan sticky buns.

At the horizon,

deep grey threatened

the sun


The bottle lifted closer,

the liquid turning

around and around,



stubbornly and painfully




the string of another

burning desire,

one of never-faltering hands,

pulled inside of his soul,

a cornucopia of reclaim.

The bottle wavered.

The amber liquid


like a scolded child.



Born in Romania and currently living in Canada, Cristina Iuliana Burlacu is an office worker, a wife and the proud mother of a six year old bundle of joy. From time to time, she writes. Her work has appeared in the Rusty Nail magazine, the Vine Leaves Literary Journal, the Vine Leaves Best of 2015 Anthology, on the Every Day Fiction, Wordhaus and Expresso literary sites.

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