When I’m Talking About Reality and the Bees Keep Buzzing
we take our shirts off,
for the weight of somebody’s
how empty full hands are.
electricity scatters the mauve veins
of ancestors, and people wonder why
they only come at night,
why they haven’t told us
the secrets of the deer,
why we haven’t stopped lying
to our reflections about
the things we want.
i want the light the moth craves
above a violet ocean,
the cooing innocence of matter.
Finola McDonald is a creative writing major and philosophy minor at SUNY Purchase. Her work has appeared in Barely There and Italics Mine. She invites you to get lost in her work, and find a little piece of yourself somewhere along the way.