Published January 15th, 2025
Under 25 Poetry Contest #8 – First Place
by Grace Arnold
I cry out for you sometimes
when I am among the yarrow
and its yellow regalia
that splashes across the acres I find myself in.
I am crying out for you now
as the begonias sway at my hip
as if the tears and sheer heaves of my body
are songs and they move on key.
I have an itch for the south that plaques my side.
It is the desert
It is my windswept cheeks
and scrunched toes in worn boots
that pulls me under.
A love I could hold forever,
a doormat to the best wrap-around porch you've ever seen
and I haven't let go of it. Not yet.
And yet, when I am here, among the prairies and the cattails
with the breeze caressing my face–
When I see my parents' eyes (how they age with each split fragment)
When I place my toes in the water lilies
At the green edges of the pond that houses frogs and cheeky tadpoles
(family affair)
When I am engulfed in corn rows
bulk stalks of evergreen
where cicadas sit atop and sneer at me
When there is the marsh, and streams,
and dragonfly whispers–
I am overcome with emotion.
I wonder why I left or why I keep staying away.
When all this is here
And I no longer am.
My parents grow old and I am withering away in Texas.
I shed my chrysalis annually
and my mother is not around to carefully pick off
the stray edges
and help me wipe the milkweed drops from my tired eyes.
Why did I ever leave?
I cry out for you sometimes
when I am standing out here lost in the stillness. When I am all alone.
To be frank, I wish you were here.
But there are times where I am selfish and desire this all for my own keeping.
A locket with no key.
The cattails mimic my moans
and the bullfrogs overpower my screams.
I walk home, besotted, to the loving wrinkles of old age.
About the Poet
Grace Arnold resides in Austin, Texas, United States.
Read the poet's biography on Grace Arnold's Artist Page.
Next in Wax Mag #6:
The Terror of War
Poem by Anna Nike Leskowsky
Back to Wax Mag #6
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