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
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.