everything that is home
She touches it, and it’s blue and strange and it feels like a distant memory, something electric, this thing, this hand that isn’t really a hand reaching towards hers. It humms and something catches in her throat, tearing. It feels good and destructive and she thinks of her mother, her father, of Colorado, of all of the fat, blue skies and tearing blue winds that used hit her face, like this hand, tearing in a way that is everything that memory is supposed to be, everything that is home.
destruction like the sky
It is all blue, and destruction like the sky. The owls hoot at night, and it is lonely, like the sound of the train at 2AM, blowing past your window like the rain, the wind, like a dirge. Sometimes it’s bright though, and there are no funerals, just wings taking flight after the storm has gone, nothing is wanting, you’re warm and the owl’s hoot is as gentle as your mother calling you in for dinner after a long day playing in the green green fields you used to know and haven’t seen in years, in years.
Erika T. Wurth’s novel, Crazy Horse’s Girlfriend, was published by Curbside Splendor. Her first collection of poetry, Indian Trains, was published by The University of New Mexico’s West End Press and her second A Thousand Horses Out to Sea is forthcoming from Mongrel Press. A writer of both fiction and poetry, she teaches creative writing at Western Illinois University and has been a guest writer at the Institute of American Indian Arts. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in numerous journals, such as Boulevard, Drunken Boat, and South Dakota Review. She is represented by Peter Steinberg. She is Apache/Chickasaw/Cherokee and was raised outside of Denver.