helium
By Rowan Tate
Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025
when i was in summer still, i
climbed a plum tree and made up a song that
went on singing itself, i put my eyes
on sturdy branches so that they would stay open
long after i climbed down. that was the summer i
wobbled onto roofs that weren’t mine and
dangled from telephone wires as if a blouse
hung on a washing line. i wanted god
to catch me and he did. god said get in the car
and he drove me down to california at midnight
so i could see the moon dip
like a tea bag into the pacific.
you might have seen us or you might
see us again, hair and hands.
he drives like a maniac, i am screaming,
we are flying, laughing
and won’t stop.
climbed a plum tree and made up a song that
went on singing itself, i put my eyes
on sturdy branches so that they would stay open
long after i climbed down. that was the summer i
wobbled onto roofs that weren’t mine and
dangled from telephone wires as if a blouse
hung on a washing line. i wanted god
to catch me and he did. god said get in the car
and he drove me down to california at midnight
so i could see the moon dip
like a tea bag into the pacific.
you might have seen us or you might
see us again, hair and hands.
he drives like a maniac, i am screaming,
we are flying, laughing
and won’t stop.
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Rowan Tate is a Romanian creative (poet, essayist, visual artist, songwriter). She reads nonfiction nature books, the backs of shampoo bottles, and sometimes minds.
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