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©2018 Barren Magazine. An Alt.Lit Introspective.


by Amanda Crum




in the hum and burr of twilight,

when our legs begin to itch from the day’s rambles.

Chiggers and tall grass have left their mark,

a tattoo peeled away in the bath.

Suppose it’s open season on childhood,

where we can mutter warnings of anthills and bats that

swoop around the trees with a sound like

a magician’s cape unfurling. When the day burns out

there is nothing left but thirst and hiraeth and we move as one,

like a murmuration,

to the barnlights calling us home.

Header photograph © Asher.

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