Artwork © Gabrielle Miller


In the Eye of a Forest

A forest, lust with shades
of emerald,
olive and sage (yes, they’re different).
Shades of asparagus
and peas, like the ones
you often put in that pasta
that you make
with so much love.

You have freckles in your right eye.
I find them fascinating, the freckles
that I call chocolate chips
that cover you from head to toe
have found their way
into your iris.
I see five.

Now I see that this forest
has shades of chocolate,
of gingerbread.
Only a few spots, only
in the right eye.

You know how when
a tree trunk cracks,
and when it’s a fresh break,
and it exposes that apricot,
that honey, oh honey,
that pumpkin interior?
That golden orange.
Now I see that too.
it’s strong in the sun
that we lay in. A hug
around your pupils. Both.

Do you understand now
why it took me
so long
to look you in the eye?


Morgan McCarron (she/her) is a senior in Creative Writing at Purdue University in West Lafayette, Indiana. She enjoy short walks on the beach and anything that involves avoiding her writer’s block.

Gabrielle Miller is a queer artist and writer from Wichita, Kansas.