Her eyes glow green under obsidian skies
She gives the midnight cowboy a silver dollar and he hands her the elixir sealed with wax
She tells me that life begins when you open your eyes in the morning
She wants to show me the field where the wild horses run while their watcher sleeps
Her eyes glow like emeralds under the harvest moon
She looks down and her hands are tiny nets catching lightning bugs
She tells me that life ends when you close your eyes at night
She wants to show me the field where the milk-colored lambs sleep in a pile like autumn leaves
She tells me my eyes look like a bird’s eye view of a cup of black coffee
And I picture the field where the crows pick the bones of the freshly defunct gazelle
She tells me life begins when God needs something to do with his hands
She wants to show me the field where the cherubic children play hide and seek with love
She wants to show me the field where tranquility reigns for a hundred years until the prophesized tornado arrives to uproot all that grows there
She wants to show me the field where the lovers lay supine and scream hopeful prayers to the heavens
She wants to show me the field where the aging artist paints a still life of a bowl of pomegranates
She wants to show me the field where the Pierrot clown’s tears blazon two flesh colored columns on his white face
She tells me life begins and ends with God’s quick and sonorous proclamation
Drucilla Gary (she/her) is a queer BIPOC poet studying creative writing at OCADU. She loves words and stringing them together to create arrangements that are both beautiful and meaningful. She finds inspiration in the intangible and attempts to create images out of abstract thought in an effort to understand and ground herself.
