KAREN CORCORAN DABKOWSKI

The Poetry Of..
Karen Corcoran...................................................
Dabkowski .........................................................

Star Struck

Truth. A hard thing
to allow

and when you find it, hang on tight. The night is

filled
with
a million
hungry stars

not
all of which
are bright

in a way
that will
wash you clean. Some strings
lead
to places they say they aren't, but do, and
you will know
the truth, and yes
it sets you free. Knee-deep
in deception, yet there's a reckoning
with
real
stars-
ones that never burn, but glow in a nurture light
that's very different
from the
devouring glower-gleam

and that's
the star
you follow home
and give a name to - you let be
because
it loves you best

it is
the
truth.

My Other Suit

This is my
other suit
and it doesn't
have an 'S'
on the chest, it's not red
white
and blue
with yellow
accents,
in fact, this suit
may
be
all black

like
a ninja

but what I know
is it allows
me
to move in ways that aren't welcome
else
where.

This is where I bitch

or intoduce
a topic
I know
will get the prune
lipped
flippant answer
elsewhere,

so I come here. Take off my shoes

and slip
into
my
other
suit.
It may
very well be the one
that
suits me best, shows
off my

black
eyes; both

given
and
earned.

Caged Beast

They brought it in
shackled
inside its cage, raging
in there

and making
a sound like enmity was its middle name.

Fur
thick
and matted. Eyes a shade I'd never seen
outside a mad house, and there it sat. I hadn't
sent for the thing

and told them so. Mistake?
I asked. I haven't a clue
what it wants -
and they
looked long and long at me. No, Miss
they said,

it asked
for you.

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