Wheatfield with Crows


by Marie Ostendorf-LeClair

Wheatfield with Crows

                   Vincent Van Gogh


stand inside gold and let it melt

the wingtips of crows off my 

palms, hold the wheat steady,

a night sky of cumulus

and black wings shade my

eyes my vision my hallucination

lights dance in my eyesight, far off

and I’m dizzy effervescent


look at her beak opening wide

to swallow me whole 

to ease out

of this breathing, bulky thing 

into the sky, weightlessness

wonder, ponder, fragility 


I wish the birds were swallows

I’d like to fit into 

a dozen colorful mouths

inside a golden wheatfield

a holy night sky

find mercy in void 

Marie Ostendorf-LeClair is a nonbinary poet who focuses on nostalgia and trauma in themes and forms. She is a former Design Editor of Franklin College's campus literary journal, Apogee, as well as being published in the journal the past four issues. She has work forthcoming in honey & lime lit's second issue. Twitter handle is @goghtothegrave. Pronouns are she/they.


  • Twitter
  • Instagram
  • Facebook

© 2020 by semicolon literary journal, all rights reserved

All written and visual work is the 

intellectual property of the attributed