"Crossing" by David Eye

Crossing
 
Late the night my grandmother died, I dreamed
I walked beneath a pillowed sky alone
through wheat fields quilted white, the fences seams.
I headed for the woods instead of home.
The cold, the light, the late November snow
made ground and sky so bright they hurt my eyes.
Or was it something lost, I didn’t know,
but in the dream I cried, or tried to cry.
I knew I’d never make it to the woods –
I had to catch a boat back to a feast.
Many strangers.  Tables laden with food.
I leaned from door to door but didn’t eat.
When I awoke, her absence was a wound
that grew inside my chest, and filled the room.

Introduction

The Local Scroll is the written contingent of the The Local Word Reading Series, a fortnightly live literary event that takes place in Washington Heights, in the art space at Le Cheile (lecheilenyc.com). The Local Word project is committed to promoting an accessible and active forum for readers and writers alike to engage with new writing, in both live and text based forms. The Scroll is a place for our esteemed performers to publish their original work.