Po'try
Hey, once in a while I may get a new poem posted up here. Could be
every day, every week, or every full moon that rises sunny-side up.
But if you're looking for little scribblings of poetry from the journal's
early months, you can find them here:
March 10, 11, 21
April 7 , 8, 14, 26
May 4, 5, 6, 10
June 1, 7, 8
We lie in bed like twin caterpillars
sharing a cocoon
shaping & twisting for hours
our period of rest comes softly &
drifting
clinging to the corner of a front porch
the night cool as s ilk.
In the morning we wake with newness
colors in places that were once gray
wings where we once had legs.
© 2000 kmc
"Birds, Today"
This is the future of me.
The drop-down on the floor,
huddled like we had heard the last siren
of an air raid,
of me.
The stripped-skin, boned & declawed me --
my word flying in the air, like
the birds in our corn fields when our
youngest approaches, arms outstretched
not knowing when quiet is.
The images race to
my tongue, but some tire out before
they ever reach the page.
This is the future of me,
the untongued bird, the unclothed knife, the flying.
© 1999 kmc
He made the bed, folded his tee-shirts and placed them at the foot,
and disappeared.
He must have taken a few hours to clean
the room. The television pushing him
along, like a sargent in the fields,
commanding the socks into one bin, dirty laundry in another.
I've messed up the bed, my feet and ass
creating hills, mountains
where I climb along,
my feet and hands following each other,
and where I search for you,
is only a vast space of straightened linen.
© 1999 kmc
"WomanCry"
The mother/daughter duo
at the cosmetics shelves
sifts through lavender and almond
powders and creams --
an aura of femininity
radiates outward
like the smoke in a tribal circle.
Missing my own mother,
I surround myself in Crabtree and Evelyn...
traditions passed down.
Holding my arms and shoulders,
holding onto a time
when she and I stood
at the same shelves,
lavender buds piled up to our cheekbones.
Sifting, sighing
aura upon aura.
© 1999 kmc
"Fiance Away"
When darkness swells,
pregnant with memories,
I go back to the nights Excitement and Fulfillment
drove me home
and tucked me in my safe bed
before one
last
phone call.
Those sheets have long been packed away
and I consciously misplaced the phone numbers
of ex-boyfriends,
though I think of each one right now.
© 1999 kmc
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