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.