The Poet, Ted
Sara Crowley


Sundazzled. Stretching green lawns giving way to green fields. Adjacent and below, English countryside greens, quilting the land. It’s hard to see him clearly at first against the light, but there he is standing magnificent at the very edge of it all. You walk towards him. You’ve been searching for a place to call home and this place of so many lost, where there are no words for goodbye, just hot, bright pain, feels an exact fit.

He is taller than you think, even though you know. He blocks the shine with his bulk and looks down at you. When he speaks you are surprised by his German accent, but suppose it makes sense. At the lip of the river he has placed a cardboard box containing all ruined love. Now he is getting too close. He holds you and you are vanished, almost. With a surprising lightness you laugh; both of you. Rollicking kisses. Naked, he finds you.

Carefree for whole blissful moments.You ignore thoughts of love drowned in a chilly oven. Ovens. A dead deer lies by the side of the road. It is the most beautiful piece of meat you have ever seen.



Sara Crowley has had fiction published in many lovely places. She’s the Managing Editor of The Forge Literary Magazine. See more here.