Letter to a Darkening Sky

Taylor Hamann Los

I welcome your fever each June,

stuffing fistfuls of earth in my mouth,


chin dripping juice from sour berries.

I revel in night-bellied heat,


lips swollen as the river, love the reeds

that rough against my back.


I am one flash away from flood.


Like cups of sugar or casseroles,

neighbors trade sandbags


in preparation for your storm.

And when it comes, I am a crooked


lightning rod, your breath summer-singed

and forking through me,


my body curved in the shape of yes yes yes.

About the Author

Taylor Hamann Los holds Bachelor of Arts in English and professional writing from Carroll University and an MLIS from the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. Her work has appeared in Rust + Moth, The Monarch Review, Whiskey Island, Watershed Review, and elsewhere. She lives with her husband in Wisconsin.