Senses crossed

I went outside so I
could hear the sky
not cranes nor wind

but a secret song
I know I need
a craving brutal

I went outside
to smell a feeling
long lost to me

I’ve gone outside
to see what I am missing
I know it’s here

I know it’s here

I go outside
to taste air breathed
by blossom

I’m here outside
to scrub this stain of melancholy
something happens anywhere

but outside holds the door

---

Lucy Griffith lives beside the Guadalupe River near Comfort, Texas. As a retired psychologist, she explored the imagined life of the Burro Lady of West Texas in her debut collection, We Make a Tiny Herd, earning both the Wrangler and Willa Prizes. Her second collection, Wingbeat Atlas, was published by FlowerSong Press. She has been a Bread Loaf Scholar and a Certified Master Naturalist. She is always happiest on a tractor named Mabel.