Green
by Anna Henderson
November 2, 2023
Anna Henderson
In my desolate,
Gentle field in
Gordonville, Texas / Ten years old
I am briefly liberated
From the presence of others
Instead submerged
In my own reverie
Of lone survival and magic.
I search for the mossy tree
That reclines across
The cotton-mouthed creek
Where I laze until
Sleep almost swallows me,
I search for the abandoned trailer
That plays hide-and-go-seek
In a cluster of foliage.
The hours slip through
Strands of my hair and
My only unit of time is
The looming nausea
From being secluded
For too long, from the
Suspicion that I am
Suddenly the only person
Left in the world.
Gentle field in
Gordonville, Texas / Ten years old
I am briefly liberated
From the presence of others
Instead submerged
In my own reverie
Of lone survival and magic.
I search for the mossy tree
That reclines across
The cotton-mouthed creek
Where I laze until
Sleep almost swallows me,
I search for the abandoned trailer
That plays hide-and-go-seek
In a cluster of foliage.
The hours slip through
Strands of my hair and
My only unit of time is
The looming nausea
From being secluded
For too long, from the
Suspicion that I am
Suddenly the only person
Left in the world.