Belovedsong

in dreams, i see our grandfathers sitting together on a white bench somewhere in the past. mine asks yours for the hour. they shake hands. their bodies soften in that moment, then harden again before the world. the blue-rust vines of expectation wrap around them as they separate back into their lives, and evening comes, and so many birds and children go unfed. but summer is coming, and the corn is growing in thick rows of amber. every day rains sorrow or mayhem; in each hand, we hold a bucket and a book of matches. the first time our lives touched, a set of kind, familiar fingers wrapped around my shoulder, knuckles refusing to shake loose. they tugged me toward you. i sheathed my ego, my jack of spades—useless against ghosts and angels anyway—and became a firefly on your windowsill. this is what i mean to say: i was created to bring you light.

Kate Wylie (she/they) is a poetry MFA candidate at Pacific University and 2018 Webster University alum. Wylie reads fiction for The New Southern Fugitives, regularly contributes to the Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome society magazine Loose Connections, and has published work in literary magazines including Canary, October Hill Magazine, and Sport Literate.

A Song for Kate