Natalie Hayes

river as reaper

crawfish falls from the sky and lands in my lap:

i imagine what you were when you still moved

(and my skin crawls, but i don’t tell you that)

and where is the thing that brought you to me?

big bird with shit grip

snatches you from shallow waters

and names you   supper

but you are too hard          to be held that tight

and so you fall to my front lawn.

i want to know  whether or not

you looked back at the bird             as  you  fell

and if you did, were you laughing? or were you

asking to be eaten   instead?            the  passage

from tongue

to throat

then stomach

is warmer, at least

and perhaps if eaten you would have returned,

albeit unrecognizable, to your river.

it is just so hard to see when you are moving that fast;

maybe stomach acid would’ve taken its time with you.

Natalie Hayes is a double major in English (Creative Writing) and Film Studies at SUNY Geneseo. She is extremely passionate about all facets of the arts, including but not limited to film, writing, and the visual arts. She is most interested in where these forms overlap, and in engaging in them collaboratively.