"Boy With Red Stag" by George Richards
Down by the river, the open vein of it,
a boy threads through water looking for dragonflies.
Leaning in to hear the sounds better, he watches
pinheads stretchmark the river with his two huge eyes;
he watches himself spool apart on the water—
when a gust drags the eyes from one
end of the river to the other and he sees it:
the little fuscous body, red ochre spilling
from a wound as it darts, jumps bird-like,
its sudden neck-rise setting off birds that before
were watching the boy, trembling now at
the stag’s looking but keeping
very still not to scare it, slowly he settles into
the oil shale black of the stag’s pupil and this
untethers something, unfreights his soul:
so for a moment the breeze sets into place
and the whole mystery of his loneliness
suspends in the water and this small quiet
holding between them—the stag’s antlers like
wild arteries shedding velvet,
the boy’s eyes, swimming tadpole lights.
George Richards
George is currently studying for his Masters in creative writing poetry at the University of East Anglia. He graduated from the University of Exeter in 2019 and has also spent time in Hong Kong teaching English as a foreign language. He has previously been an editor at Enigma, a university journal for creative writing, and contributes ecology and climate articles to the Hong Kong-based site Earth.org. He is an avid reader, writer and hiker. A senior editor here at Bloom in Doom.