For Frank Stanford
Night of crisp hay, full moon,
warm wind, hiking around
the reservoir. We didn’t yet know
what sacred meant, but I would learn.
I was always praying to
something, it was easy, I am a mistress
of magical thinking.
If I hold my breath.
If I pick seventeen flowers.
If I leave a letter beneath the bed
in an envelope I folded from magazine pages.
I know you are holy, you smell
like hay and wind.
I will pray to you,
Alpha and Omega,
autumnal bonfire.
Let me wear you
like leather. I was always
praying for something,
an eternal golden hour where
everything glinted. Let me
see your hands, let me
kiss them like leather. I’ll hang
your coat and hat on the moon.
Shae Krispinsky lives in Tampa, FL, where she fronts the band, Navin Avenue, whose sound she describes as Southern Gothic 70s-arena indie rock with a pop Americana twist. Her fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry have appeared in Connotation Press, Thought Catalog, The Dillydoun Review, Vending Machine Press, Sybil Journal and more. She is currently working on her band's second album and a novel.
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