Maisie Williams

Ouroboros

PUBLISHED IN FOLIO 2025: VOL. 40.

I let you tour the university grounds before you had to leave
and catch your train for the airport. I had not visited myself yet,
though I had been here a month already. The buildings were brick.
The lawn sprawled like water receding in a great lake. Everywhere,
yellow leaves puddled in the hollows of the earth like glinting coins.
It was like the pictures, more or less. Meaning, it was more. It was less.
Dreams are an ouroboros. A dream sustains itself on itself.
I could never be happy. I could never be disappointed.
In the cold years, when I felt my destiny had been writ already,
and I felt time like snow settling over me, I dreamed of this.
I felt it like a past life, the shiver of someone else’s shadow
sweeping over you. I felt I should have been here sooner,
if the counselor had helped me in high school, if my parents
were of any use, if I had more courage or conviction,
but here I was. Now. Here I was. The sky a vaulted ceiling over me
painted with waifish clouds, gilded with pink. Your arm against my arm,
steady, reassuring, solid as destiny. But I knew. Like a fever prophecy,
sweat-riddled, seeing visions dance around my bedroom. I knew.
Here I was. Here. I was. Just not soon enough.

Maisie Williams is a writer and artist from Nashville, TN. Her poetry has been published with Rattle Magazine and Paper Dragon Journal, and her creative nonfiction has been published in Thirteen Bridges and The Los Angeles Review. She is currently a creative writing MFA candidate at Boston University.