“Litchfield” by Emily Wolfe

Those backwoods years. 

Shooting bullfrogs big

as your head

on the old farm pond-

Watching the bullets skip

Rabbits melted

by the shotgun.

Stew in their bones-

The scent of thyme 

heavy in 

summers heat-

Bluegill and sunfish

Bask in their glory on 

the bottom of the boat

Moonshine in their eyes,

Formaldehyde in their veins-

The .22 positioned religiously

Bound in holy matrimony

to the cartridges 

and shotgun in the trunk-

Waiting for in (between) 

seasons-

the dos and does

of then.

Conquering 

the lonely hill of 

windy Illinois plains

in pursuit of 

shiny vermilion fame

in the form of a bike-

Frame and tires 

won by work worn in,

Beautiful. 

Litchfield-

Where we’ve grown among

the weeds, rooted 

our bones in the soil-

we’ll return once more

Again.

Emily Wolfe is a third-year wildlife biology major who has not figured it out yet. Her hobbies include romping through the woods and defying natural selection at all given opportunities. Currently she is working on staving off eventual caffeine addiction and figuring out how late she can roll out of bed to still get to class on time.