The Forest

by | Dec 2, 2013 | Poetry







We biked towards a village called Nieuwendammerdijk but ended up in a forest that smelled like nutmeg and rain. I made the obligatory road less travelled joke, and the four of us sat on fallen logs, split a joint. Light passed through the trees—a harlequin green canopy—in the thinnest of streaks, landing like diamonds on the half-baked marshland beneath our feet. It was the kind of place that reminded you of your mortality. Something about watching ants pick through decaying leaves as a mallard led her ducklings into the water. I can’t remember what we talked about or who sat next to me on the log. What I remember: a muddy golden retriever streaking past, the ducks scattering in a tangle of feathers. And, a minute later, a little boy in purple Converse sneakers chasing after him, yelling something in Dutch that sounded like an apology.


Photo By:  jahe

About The Author

Ruth Madievsky

Originally from Kishinev, Moldova, Ruth Madievsky currently lives and
writes in Los Angeles. She studied creative writing and biology at the
University of Southern California, where she received the Edward W.
Moses Creative Writing Prize. Her fiction and poetry has recently
appeared or is forthcoming in The MacGuffin, The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg
, and Revolution House.