Kristina McDonald received her MFA from Eastern Washington University, where she served as the poetry editor of Willow Springs. Her poems have appeared in several journals, including Narrative, New Guard, SLAB, Yemassee, and Sugar House Review. She was worked for literary arts non-profits Writers in the Schools and Get Lit! Programs, and she currently works for Rice University.
Dear Scarecrow
If only it hadn't itched every time we kissed,
I might have liked it better. I might have stayed longer
in that sweet little town where you taught me the difference
between chicken and pig feed. If only everything
made that much sense. But you kept wasting time
filling your head with bits of fluff and fistfuls
of rose petals. If only you hadn't taken me to the library
just to make out against the reference books,
I might have listened better. I might have believed you
when you said you could protect me from anything
other than fire. If only you had understood
I wasn't the one in danger, you wouldn't have closed your eyes
when you kissed me and I wouldn't be here now,
a hundred miles away with an empty match box,
still trying to wash the ash off my hands.