I am standing alone in an abandoned pasture, watching a tuft of marigolds burst through a tractor’s ribcage. A huddle of brown cows graze in the shade of the forest’s edge. Once they were sure no-one was looking, the marigolds pummeled through absolute blackness with the clenched fists of their buds, exploding into golden fire as they gasped for sunlight. Now the cows swat flies with their tails, the marigolds nod and doze in a cloud’s passing shadow. Soon the cows will turn their heads and wander to watch the fully-bloomed marigolds lean a little in the bright breeze. Soon the cows and their calves, the marigolds and me—mothers, daughters, close and distant cousins, nieces, and aunts—will gather to stand in the sunlight no-one can touch. I know I will be the only creature staring across that sunlight who will see the abyss in our distances. But for now, standing in the shadow of this cloud, we are each an open secret.
Robin Arble is a poet and writer from western Massachusetts. Her poems have appeared in ALOCASIA, Midway Journal, Poetry Online, Quarter After Eight, and Roi Fainéant Press, among others. They are a poetry reader for Beaver Magazine and The Massachusetts Review. She holds a Bachelor of Arts with a focus on Creative Writing and Comparative Literature from Hampshire College.