Mourning doves pray over the body of the dying night—corpse heavy in the warmth. Day swells in the mouths of wildflowers, yawning wide the purple absence of an empty field. Blooming hearts, asters and coneflowers, bleed along the side of the road. Some attempt to crawl up the trees, forgetting their earthly bodies, earthly roots—
Callan Latham is a poet and a writer. Her work has recently appeared in Crêpe & Penn, Angry Old Man Magazine, and the Ohio’s Best Emerging Poets 2019 anthology. She attends the University of Iowa and spends her days wishing for the sea.