In the Meadow by Mercedes Rodriguez

In addition to the heavy casket, there’s the crunch of weak ankles carrying it. The orange smeared on my hands is not from marigolds but from bug repellent layered on my exposed body. I’m not a fan of distraction but that doesn’t stop a distant cousin from breakdancing on foliage. I think I’ve been here before—in a dream. The funeral, no, but the meadow in which it’s held. A lover ushers me onto the plain, insistent I remain blindfolded because there’s a surprise—a surprise that’s ruined by the amount of time it takes to position my body a horizon line’s length from a short enough tree. I may fail to tell the difference between elegy and ethos, but I never make the mistake of confusing the squeak of an undertaker’s wheelbarrow for an affirmative giggle. 
















Well? Is a packet / of peanuts as good as a / beaded rosary? 

Mercedes Rodriguez is a poet and educator from Los Angeles, CA. An MFA candidate at North Carolina State University, their work appears or is forthcoming in wildness, Bellingham Review and SWWIM. Their work has received support from the Bread Loaf Environmental Conference and the Stadler Center for Poetry and Literary Arts. They read for Okay Donkey Magazine. 

16 June 2025