Tamsen Donner Talks to God
Hillary Smith-Maddern
I am burning the wagon.
Call it insanity. Call it
ingenuity. Yesterday, I ate my soles
and I only regret that now
my stomach has no limbs left
to steal from. To quiet the hunger,
I named every snowflake
until their individual arms
became legions, stationed and stagnant
on this mountain. Once,
I asked my mother, What does death
feel like? She placed my hand
on my grandmother's corpse,
let my fingertips breathe her limp chill.
In my visions of survival, I see frozen
lakes layered in ghosts who tend to the buried
lilies, kiss the goldenrod, and urge
the bluebells to hold on,
hold on. Spring is just around the corner.
Hillary Smith-Maddern is an educator whose work explores the intersections of identity, nature, and social dynamics. She is a proud cat owner and an avid collector of neglected plants. When not writing, she can be found exploring obscure topics, hiking in the mountains, or passionately critiquing the patriarchy. Her poetry has appeared in Only Poems, Rogue Agent, and The Disappointed Housewife, among others. She lives in Western Massachusetts.
