by LE Francis
High in the meadows, the sky is golden,
ground is the same. I have had every hope
pulled out of me like stitches & every hope
is a wildflower on the hill. Every dream
has trickled into the sage desert & still,
I just won’t bleed out. Bury my heart
in the tall grass for 23 seasons & then ask
me about love. I will say that I used to think
love was a texture, a quality, the bite
of dry stalks against my outstretched palms
but the truth is in the roots, hidden
in the cold ache between worlds. I have seen
the tendrils of it clinging to itself as if another.
Love is a fabric, time & space & all the things
within & without. The heavy hearts of stars,
the wildfire summer, the glow that changes
existence forever, irrevocable despite begging
yourself to forget. & even the absence
of the thing is the thing. Nothing has ever been
binary. There are not two things but one
& life is lived in its measure. & when it seems I will be
forgotten, even that is a remembrance. Left to
weather the heat on my own, the sanctuary
of summer hovers over this grave.
Bury the rest of me in the tall grass.
Sky is golden & so is the rest.
LE Francis (she/her) is a writer, visual artist, & musician living in the pacific northwest. She is a former arts journalist & the current managing editor of Sage Cigarettes Magazine. She is a co-host & editor of the Ghost in the Magazine podcast. Find her online at nocturnical.com.
