They were sorcerers, bringers of sunshine, gypsy queens shimmying down the hills of the pregnant earth, budding with life, crashing through the tunnels that once contained them. Minds like baby dragons trapped in acorn caps, unraveling and spilling over edges of a dark stage into an audience Nothing but empty chairs draped with dust and linens. Revelations hidden from the light like toes, barely peeking out from black burqas. Before, sounds crept from the corners of their mouths bumpy tongues were banging at the cages of her teeth. Now, sharp hips accompanied the racket, slicing the fragrant spring air. Like the orange and purple spiraling through the sky bodies spun out of control soles to earth jabbing hard at the spiky green blades. She said, “without the little bugs there wouldn’t be a lot of things.”
Margarita Prokofyeva is a Philosophy major at Virginia Tech with a newly discovered passion for poetry.