a fire for crows by Katie Simpson

 
doves-article-banner.jpg
 

a fire for crows


a/n: Swedish proverb meaning to waste something, especially heat


i.


not a burst but 

a slow burn

my mother's tears 

dripping hot 

on my 8-year-old palms 


his growl crawling
across the table

at me, another female body


in the shadow of his fire

we scarred under the skin


ii.


as i held out my dreams to him,

fragile as snow,

his scoff ripped through me


what were his words?

i remember driving through the park

trees naked in early spring

the shape of shame 

branding my soul


iii.


once i saw his ereader

romances and cowboys

a library of loneliness 


with the cards laid out

i wanted to cry

finally seeing this game

a fire for crows




iv.


once i hiked through 

the remnants of a forest fire

a graveyard of trees

upright but hollow

in the spring sun


as we gather at his grave

i taste his ghost,

our ashen tongues 

our smoked stained souls 


but even here 

under a winter sky

new seeds take root

waiting, growing

eager to know the sun



 
 

 
 
 
56938260_10213586796399566_5587646293389344768_n.jpg

Katie Simpson (She/her) is a writer and photographer based in San Francisco. Her work has been featured in Quiet Lightning, THAT literary review, HitRecord's Body Book, and Entropy Magazine. When not writing, she loves traveling and people watching. Her Twitter is: https://twitter.com/honest_creative.

(Pronouns: she/her)