Husk by Ellis Elliott | Streetlight Magazine

Photo of pumpkins in front of corn stalks — Photo by Sydney Rae on *Unsplash*

She was a day past presence, riding

the jagged breath below the surface

of consciousness, and I was running

to make the next plane to Arkansas.

My footsteps parted the ear-splitting

everyday announcements on the static

speaker of gate changes and baggage claim.

I was running, gunning the rental car

through the curved roads of the Ozarks,

frantic for her to hear the familiar cadence

of my voice. She was inside her last flickering,

the holding place just beneath the skin

papered over bone. Her skull was a half-empty

wasp nest, a grave tempo of slowing wing beats,

until I ran through her door. She gave a shuddering

jolt, a violent jerk at the sound of me, and it was as if

the words themselves had shed their warm husks

and were reduced to pulsing threads between us,

from the hollow dark where we first met.

Ellis Elliott has been published in Belle Ombre, Courtship of Winds, Literary Mama, Meadow, Riggwelter, Neologism Poetry Journal, and Perceptions Magazine. She received a bachelor’s degree in English from Rhodes College and is currently enrolled in the MFA program of Queens University. She enjoys mixed-media art and art journaling, paddleboarding, running, kinesiology, and choreography.