Author | Kelsey May
“I can't leave earth tonight I pleaded.
We always say not yet to the gods,
who get irritable when they can't kill us.”
Perhaps the gods want us to be wildflowers.
Perhaps our hearts were meant to grow thistles
and parade around fields like beauty queens, pageant contestants.
Perhaps this isn’t a bad thing. After all,
the gods are trustworthy folk. Their knowledge is vast,
like coloring outside the lines vast. Like how rainbows exist
in darkness and are called, in human words, lunar, breathless,
moonbows. Didn’t you know that my mouth
is full of color? I’m talking violets, shades of lily, flared hibiscus.
Perhaps we weren’t intended to process atomism
or bend time in photographic flashes. Perhaps we
always were rooted to riverstones and always will be wildflowers.
About the Author | Kelsey May's poetry has recently appeared in Non-Binary Review, Pine Hills Review, Barking Sycamores, and damselfly press. She has also received numerous grants and awards, including a nomination for a 2016 Pushcart Prize. She loves grilled cheese sandwiches and reading novels about Central America.