There are yellow skies and no
storm sirens. The hail bursts
large enough to break my window
and I think about letting nature in,
to clean my carpet. The thunder is
a heartbeat, mine. My eyes June
with longer days. They warm
and lengthen. The prairie grasses
outside look blue because my eyes
want them to water beaches
instead of streets. I want my bed
to boat my body on the coast I miss.
My hair is spring, blooms flyaways.
I’ve lost so much. Many poems, always
listening to others. They tornado my mind
empty of my words. I don’t want
to sound like the men I’ve talked to.
Only the women. Only the earth.
Only the grasses, wind, hail and sky.
Crystal Stone's poetry has previously appeared or is forthcoming in New Verse News, Occulum, Anomaly, Writers Resist, Drunk Monkeys, Poets Reading the News, Jet Fuel Review, Badlands Review, and elsewhere. She is an MFA candidate at Iowa State University. Her first collection of poetry, Knock-off Monarch (Dawn Valley Press), was recently released on Amazon.