- Molly A. Green
An Elk: I Knew You Were | By Molly A. Green
I knew you were—
an elk, lifting your chin above
me, trapping my breath in
a labyrinth of shadows, your antlers,
an ego sprouting from your brain.
I knew you were—
an elk, steering clear of
me, focusing your dead, dirt
brown eyes, wading forward in
a water overwhelming with pride.
I knew you were—
an elk, sharing empty thoughts with
me, brushing your jawline with
your hooves, at a distance,
pretending to care on a hillside.
I knew you were—
an elk, only ever calling out to
me with muffled sound strings, but
I would suffer your screaming bugle
when all I wanted was a phone ring.
I knew you were—
an elk, composing apologies to
me, pulling out the grass beneath
us, leaving your herd for the horizon
and yourself for the time being.
Molly A. Green is an emerging writer from Western Pennsylvania who has been published in the literary journals Pulp, Crêpe & Penn, The Raven Review, The WEIGHT Journal, and Ample Remains. She is a staff member for The Incandescent Review, BatCat Press, and Shambles literary journal. Outside of writing, Molly enjoys drawing portraits and spending time with her pet cat, Cornflake. She can be found on Twitter @bumblebeemolly.