Photo by Ryunosuke Kikuno / Unsplash

sitting on a hill in august

Poetry Aug 31, 2023

by Kate Gargo

prairie grass whispers huskily this
time of year, wildflowers slump on
their stalks like hunchbacked grandmothers,
heads bowed over gnarled shoulders. your fingers
skim the fortune lines on my palm & every
muscle trembles beneath my skin.

a train wails below, swallowing the shriek of crickets.
shadows bloom like bruises beneath the
trees, silhouettes of sedges waver in
the loam. we are silent like animals, unmoving,
one hoof mid-step in fear. even the crackle of
underbrush could turn us prey.

we are not prepared for the looming
autumn, nuts not yet hidden, our hides
still freckled & summer-thin.
the moon creeps up the sky & broods
over us. its phases calculate our histories,
preserve faces that will wane in memory.