Ode to Ross Gay
by Maya Landers

I want to tell you how the light
that afternoon slanted just right across the pool and a clean
golden sheen beamed across the dusty counter and illuminated
car keys, quarters, pamphlets and notecards haphazardly thumbtacked
to the warped bulletin board above the only landline telephone
I’ve answered in my life, and a bird built a nest in the bathroom
as a thousand invisible spiders pulled cobwebs from thin air
and my skin felt like skim milk and my feet were bare
for the first time this year –
and I’d like to say I looked up at the sky and saw a star
or a single cloud or an airplane or the moon
or something that would end this poem in a metaphor:
but my mind was on the ground and above me
the sky was big and blue
and clear.

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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