hot plum trash in the field—
if there are still bees,
they’re coming.
disruptive procession
of accessory children,
their pudgy arms
sweet-ripe
candy for stinging.
everything summer is
disposable & starved.
a mothering frog crouches
in the grass, subconsciously grieving
gilled youth, sea legs; her iPhone
11 croaks. rearing is this
obnoxious shutter sound.
Caitlan Docherty is an anxious millennial living in a beige thousand square foot space across from a small prairie. Some of her poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Free Verse Revolution, VAINE Magazine, Sunday Mornings at the River Covid-19 Anthology, blood moon poetry & Calliope’s Eyelash. Instagram @cmnpoetry