Heather Mydosh

Scattering

Dreamscape.
Distant bracken/ashen bramble canes 
ringing the crabgrass hilltop
my bare hands stretching
bearing
the ash jar
lid askew
then
contents awash
burdened breeze whipping
fine particulate
funerary residue.

The simultaneity
wrenches—
knowing
and 
knowing 
the new possibility
of forgetting.

Heaving
scrambling
guilt not yet settling
as protean ash on
raspberry blades
unthinkable
forseen release
from bearing
grit grey bone white dust
in the cold touchstone,
now hollow
void
no memory.

Now 
grains gone
fingers plucking 
at dead molecules
carbon 
on the irretrievable breeze
imbued with loss
longing
loss.


——

Heather Mydosh is a transplant to Independence, Kansas where she teaches composition and literature at Independence Community College. She was awarded first place for poetry in the 2014 Kansas Voices contest for her poem “Strawberry Blood” and has pieces forthcoming in Inscape Magazine, Velvet-Tail, After the Pause, and From the Depths. She holds her Masters of Literature from the University of Aberdeen, Scotland in Comparative Literature and Thought.

——

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