wildscape. literary journal

helium
by Rowan Tate

when i was in summer still, i
climbed a plum tree and made up a song that
went on singing itself, i put my eyes
on sturdy branches so that they would stay open
long after i climbed down. that was the summer i
wobbled onto roofs that weren’t mine and dangled from telephone wires
as if a blouse hung on a washing line. i wanted god
to catch me and he did. god said get in the car
and he drove me down to california at midnight so i could see
the moon dip
like a tea bag into the pacific.
you might have seen us
or you might see us again, hair and hands,
he drives like a maniac, i am
screaming, we are flying,
laughing and won’t stop.

about the author // Rowan Tate

Rowan Tate (she/her) is a Romanian creative and curator of beauty. She reads nonfiction nature books, the backs of shampoo bottles, and sometimes minds.