crocus in my Kansas yard. A rite / for my fertility, a crowded room / where I am the only one singing.
Poetry by Maddie Pospisil
Fish-God visits me in real life to say
that if I am to be a sturdy fish-wife
I will have to add to my prayers.
As it is, I cant constantly. Talk
out the side of my mouth about
the saffron I am lately harvesting
(good for safekeeping or rubbing
on noses) like I’ve more than one
crocus in my Kansas yard. A rite
for my fertility, a crowded room
where I am the only one singing.
It is a song about nothing, except
it is also a song about grain.
We receive the sacrament of wheat
in the temple of Baal in the newly
tilled garden and don’t feel holy
at all until later, flopping around,
goldenrod smeared on our cheeks.
Maddie Pospisil is from Omaha, Nebraska and holds an MA in English from Kansas State University. Her poetry has previously appeared in fields and The Spectacle’s “Revue.” Connect with her on Instagram @maddiepospisil and on Facebook.