i may not seem much to you
but in my opinion i am a sunflower
with black roots that stretch a mile deep.
i am the cold eons
between stars of the same
constellation, the building static
between two strangers on a train.
i am forgotten relatives buried in empty graveyards,
the sickly strobe of an ambulance
outside your bedroom window.
so you should fear me—
i don’t look it but my bones are titanium
my teeth go fifteen rows back
and i am too bright to look at full on.
peripherals will do. just know i am the flicker
of lightning on the greening horizon,
the infinite stretch of a garden of roses
and i walk beside and above you always,
a crown in one hand and a dagger in the other.
Emily Gustafson is a graduate of Macalester College in St. Paul, Minnesota, and has a dual degree in English and Media & Cultural Studies with a minor in Hispanic Studies. She is also an actor, playwright, and nonprofit arts professional living and working in Minneapolis, Minnesota.