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.