Wheatfield with Crows
Poetry
by Marie Ostendorf-LeClair
Wheatfield with Crows
Vincent Van Gogh
stand inside gold and let it melt
the wingtips of crows off my
palms, hold the wheat steady,
a night sky of cumulus
and black wings shade my
eyes my vision my hallucination
lights dance in my eyesight, far off
and I’m dizzy effervescent
look at her beak opening wide
to swallow me whole
to ease out
of this breathing, bulky thing
into the sky, weightlessness
wonder, ponder, fragility
I wish the birds were swallows
I’d like to fit into
a dozen colorful mouths
inside a golden wheatfield
a holy night sky
find mercy in void
Marie Ostendorf-LeClair is a nonbinary poet who focuses on nostalgia and trauma in themes and forms. She is a former Design Editor of Franklin College's campus literary journal, Apogee, as well as being published in the journal the past four issues. She has work forthcoming in honey & lime lit's second issue. Twitter handle is @goghtothegrave. Pronouns are she/they.