I made mine just the same as you made yours
and mine turned out the same as yours did
I began making mine before I knew better
when what I wanted was what you wanted
In the end I threw away so many of the
obsolete arts and crafts you taught me
I start again when I am many years older
many years behind me and perhaps lost
This time I make mine in the shape of myself
calling it some new kind of womanhood
someone balancing on new feet, I stand
and start again, it is late but not too late
Tag Archives: Poem
Blind Spot
The way I felt when it ended:
I have driven for so long
I checked my blind spot twice
All this double checking
and still, accidents happen
Palm Reader
A fortune teller once prophesied that
my greatest love would arrive
in my later years, but
so far love has stayed away from me
sometimes as far as boxed ashes
more often (just) other arms
Sometimes it stays so far away that
I will believe anyone who gently
holds my palm in theirs
Birding
A semi-legitimate concern upon
taking up the hobby of birding
is that I have waited too long
and as a result lack ample time
to learn who is who among birds
(there are many categories and
this alone is plenty to remember).
But, what does time have to do
with how we measure what it
might be worth to love something?
Silencer
How to
make yourself
clean again:
Cut the tongue
out of
the mouths
you have hurt.
It does not
rinse dirt
from its root
but it is a
solution.
Colette Kay 