Kathleen Klassen
Slowing
into a cricket song
the
invisible wasn’t
a
viral exhale nor ashen inhale
It
was a flighty chirp
ground-stalk,
bulb-white fleece
gnat-cloud,
still cottony
A
woman picking poison-
red
berries falling
like
ants toward boot-splatter
A
humming-blue decrescendo
a
grey too hurried
a
whitecap-flurry
A
cement bridge holding
its
own – green stem
punching
above its weight
A
trail of balancing
Inukshuks
standing up
to
the rush
A
crab-apple splash
a
squirrely dash
a
scuttle of geese
It
was October, veeing south
fire-tipped
and blazing
November-brown
Kathleen
Klassen is an emerging writer who discovered poetry as a source of healing
after injury. Her work has appeared or
is forthcoming with Bywords.ca, Rise Up Review, Anti-Heroin Chic, ottawater,
Dissident Voice, geez magazine, Gyroscope Review, Alternative Field, Paper
Dragon, In/Words Magazine and Press, Dots Publications, Coven Editions and
Cathexis Northwest Press.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.