Make my skull a birdfeeder
Call me bird-brained
Raccoons will try to steal me--
Won’t that be a laugh?
You’ll say I’ve lost my head.
And do me a favor?
Plant a tree in my rib cage
Just on the heart
So that it might beat once more
Each time a breeze blows past.
At the very least,
Cover me in dirt
And let the green grass
Grow from my pores.
But please, for the love of God,
Do not run me over with a lawnmower--
I cannot bear the thought of pain.
Taylor Grueser was born and raised on a small farm in Athens, Ohio. She started writing poetry at a young age as a way to process the world around her, and her writing is greatly influenced by her Appalachian roots and love of nature. She is currently working towards a master’s degree in mathematics with the hopes of studying ancient languages through the use of mathematical methods. In her free time, she enjoys reading everything she can get her hands on, drinking craft beer, and exploring the hills of Southeastern Ohio with a flock of dachshunds.