Eliza Wyatt

a gorgeous butterfly bursts in my heart
                                             on a rainy day
                                             on train tracks that lead her away

from a horse that rears, struck through
                                            going in the wrong direction for


sketched in dirty water, I side-mirror her
                                           look again for a second-long

                                           of blood red sun yellow tumbling
over this chain-locked dog
                                           ankles splashed with mud
                                          bicycling fast in the direction of

Flights, Issue Seven, December 2022