Great And Terrible

Oh Dorothy,
I thought as she swooned across poppies,
you’ll never smell home again.

That road dust won’t crowd your nose,
mixing with the crumble of wood
and approaching storm,

without first bringing the sense
of vertigo and drunken house.
When the stars blink in a solar breeze

you will picture a shimmer of pink,
an aurora borealis hovering impossibly
over barren Kansas fields.

You won’t find comfort in yellow
the way you once did in mud,
you’ll never love a cornfield

without imagining a ruined man.
Even after your rescue, a dream
behind fevered forehead,

you’ll spend hours and years
trying to reconcile a heart
and an empty soup can;

days and months in wonder
after the circus rolls through
and you’re left with the scent

of something wild and familiar.
You will lie on your deathbed
with the glimmer of rubies

behind your eyes, never knowing
how close you came
to a great and terrible man.

Amanda Crum is a writer and artist whose work can be found in publications such as Barren Magazineand Eastern Iowa Review. Her book of horror poetry, Tall Grass, made the preliminary ballot for a Bram Stoker Award nomination in 2020. She is also a Best of the Net and Pushcart Prize nominee. Amanda currently lives in Kentucky with her husband and two children.