"Antiseptic" by Crystal Taylor

Gray, the stone I tumbled from, playing chase as children do.

A gash split, brimming with gravel and potting soil. Seeds nurtured by blood.

She twisted another bottle open, poured icy antiseptic over my knee,

before she chugged the rest. Under gray clouds, fizz drizzled down my leg.

All better she said. The rasp of adhesions

bubbled up, quaked in the folds of her throat.

Years etched a keloid, raised a strip on my knee. Straight as the runway

she barreled down: her face, a distorted shade in a porthole.

From the pavement, I thought I saw her wave, as gray wheels pulled back

under gray wings. A gray ponytail rose to the sky.

Tyrian ribbons trailed behind you, like long tongues dipping

to lap sea foam where the ocean met the horizon..

Crystal Taylor is an emerging poet, writer and birdwatcher from Texas. Her work has been featured or is upcoming in Maudlin House, Rust & Moth, Gargoyle, and other sacred spaces. She was nominated for BotN 2025 for her poem, "Pearls". Her favorite things are Matcha tea and quiet places. Find her on Bluesky and Twitter @CrystalTaylorSA, and Instagram @cj_taylor_writes.