Gili Heyman; "Wisteria Home: Senior Care"

Artist Feature: Gili Heyman / Poetry / Class of 2023

by Rebecca Auerbach

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Art by Barbara Jaskiewicz "Spring in the Botanical Garden," provided by Gili Heyman

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I used to know this yellow butterfly

She was small, with wings just a little more yellow than butter

Of course, she loved the flowers though I don’t recall which ones

After all, I knew her a long time ago, I can’t remember much anymore

She never spoke to me, to anyone, she was always in tears,

I saw her every day I think, and everyday this terrible boy would force me away from her.

The afternoon was my favorite. I was allowed to sit outside and see her again

Maybe she didn’t like me, but I think I understood her, when I saw her the whole world would sit

silently and watch the two of us

From flower, to flower, to flower, she would float between each petal like a broken clock

Wisteria: Poisonous when ingested, though I hadn’t known that until later

I used to wonder how many petals it takes to make your tongue purple, I was a funny girl once

Though that boy didn’t think so, I used to say he was more forlorn than he was a boy, not that

people listened to me anymore

Always upset I’d forgotten something though I never did remember what, don’t think I ever even

figured out who that boy was, who he belonged to

Once a week he’d take me inside and they’d give me some water and force my worn-out wrists

down with their nitrile gloves that tasted like the pith of a grapefruit. Terrible terrible people,

men like poison ivy I’d say

Sometimes when I saw her I grew unhappy I wish she’d talk to me, I wanted to help her

Alas, she would simply float and cry the useless yellow thing

Just like children before they learn to talk

Somedays I would wonder where mine had gone then I’d quickly remind myself hadn’t any

“I would have surely remembered such a thing” I thought out loud.

That was the last time I saw her. On Wednesday in the afternoon,

Of course, she loved the flowers though I don’t recall why

Now I can’t remember a whole lot about that day

Except for the flowers something was wrong with them those ungrateful things

They drop their petals as if they forget their only job is to sit there and look pretty

And I remember that little broken butterfly

I was a funny girl once

When she laughed it sounded like a thousand mute jingle bells that had stopped working years

before we met

she laughed with her mouth open as if she wanted to prove she was laughing at you

That’s when she looked at me with her tongue just visible

It was wisteria purple

I wonder how many petals it took

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Gili Heyman is a sophomore at St. Mary's Academy and a published writer! Her work has been featured in an Oregon Poetry Association poetry collection and Escribe Maria’s print magazine. Last year, a short story she wrote was awarded a Silver Key in the Scholastic Writing Awards.

Gili Heyman '23

She told the Escribe Maria team that her writing is often inspired by music and books. "Sometimes I’ll be listening to a song and I’ll hear a lyric and get inspired to write a poem around it," she says. "My creative process almost always starts with me deciding what the 'mic drop' moment is. I like to decide what the point of my piece is before I start working on it. This helps me stick to a general direction and tone."

In 6th grade, Heyman started practicing creative writing in an after-school class. There, she was introduced to various styles of writing and authorial techniques. She reveals this is when she “instantly fell in love with [writing].”

Regarding her poem "Wisteria Home: Senior Care," which was published in Escribe Maria last year and is featured in this post, she wants readers to know that though it is an abstract piece, they should pay attention to the storyline. An essential part of the poem, the storyline helps give it meaning and depth.