wildscape. literary journal

GRIEF IS SUCH A WILD LANDSCAPE
by Caroline Wiygul

They should sell it as a 12 month illustrated calendar / or a series of Windows
screensavers: a fist full of red beetles / with the yellow organs oozing
out / a sun-warmed strawberry / the gold flash of a birthmark in a
lover’s eye / how their face goes swimmy and blue when looking up
at you from seated / your best friend at the dinner table, still
visiting in dreams / mouthing from out of the big nothing I love
you / which means in this case / take heart: I can still love you
the lavender drying / the awful hot of concrete / a thousand men
who hate you at the helm of the law / breakfast / bombs / the world
the world the world / a girl floating face up practicing her breathing / learning
the same lesson on loop / you must let your life become very simple
even though this is impossible / you must sink to the bottom of the lake
where nothing lives / except bacteria and crabs / and another vision
of her / leaning in through that ever-present cloud of hair / flash of gorgeous
teeth / snap peas / kitchen / a colander of silky sage / and for the calendar’s
finale / a grainy low-lit memory / the swallows that flutter in the underpass
the ones you keep thinking have got to be her

about the author // Caroline Wiygul

Caroline Wiygul (she/her) is a poet originally from the Gulf Coast of Mississippi. She now lives in Tennessee, where she helps design community gardens, orchards, and parks. Her work has appeared in Outcrop, Interpret, Propel, and Gutter magazines.