new year
new year, cleansing rain
wash away the pain
last year
wrought, begin again,
there’s nothing to gain
from tears
o’er the past, hope reigns
no fear
~kat
January 2021 Day One: The Lai is a French form. It's a nine-line poem or stanza that uses an "a" and "b" rhyme following this pattern: aabaabaab. The lines with an "a" rhyme use 5 syllables; the "b" rhyme lines have 2 syllables.
sheltered
there is no drama here
no coffee-breath, he said,
she said, I heard, did you know’s,
no traffic, no rude drivers
riding my ass in a hurry to
get nowhere, no whispers,
no prying eyes, no judgment.
here, there is my desk, my
computer, tasks for the day,
routine, sun shining outside
my window, and rain, I don’t
mind it, here there is bird song,
an occasional butterfly flitting by,
it is quiet, I can breathe, I am
breathing at long last, my heart
has settled from my throat to
my chest…I could get used to
this, I have gotten used to
doing what I do without leaving
my house, relishing the freedom
of forced sheltering in place,
these walls no longer feel
confining, as they embrace me
here, safe, well, solitary bliss…
they are planning for us to
return to our cubicles, but
a part of me is hoping
I’ll not be missed
~kat
Photo above by Mike Warner, KATU TV
Asleep
I have been asleep, Rip
Van Winkling through life
pretty in pink, golden pin-curl
locks and porcelain skin, muted,
pale, pastel privilege, oblivious
to the jewel tones that lower their
eyes when I pass by, yes, ma’am,
no, ma’am…please don’t call me
ma’am, I say, but they just smile
and whisper, yes ma’am, as
they shuffle away.
I have been asleep, yearning for
love’s kiss to wake me, warm
breath against my cheek, life is
a fairy tale, simple, sweet, but it is
a hot shallow breath that rouses
me to the nightmare, I can’t
breathe, he can’t breathe!
blood runs cold, crimson,
amidst a sea of jewels rising
from the asphalt, beautiful,
terrible, how can anyone sleep
in the shadow of this injustice,
we should do something, what
can I do? how can I help? this
has to stop, how do we make it
stop…do you see what’s happening?
yes ma’am
please don’t call me ma’am…
I have been asleep.
~kat
#Black Lives Matter
healing
i hold my breath
try to forget
my shoulders tense
then I remember
the sweetness
and my breathing
grows soft, healing,
like rain, my breath’s
like a kiss, soft, slow,
persistent
~kat
Today’s Blackout Poem inspired by this magnificent poem by Yesenia Montilla.
i have diver’s lungs from holding my
breath for so long. i promise you
i am not trying to break a record
sometimes i just forget to
exhale. my shoulders held tightly
near my neck, i am a ball of tense
living, a tumbleweed with steel-toed
boots. i can’t remember the last time
i felt light as dandelion. i can’t remember
the last time i took the sweetness in
& my diaphragm expanded into song.
they tell me breathing is everything,
meaning if i breathe right i can live to be
ancient. i’ll grow a soft furry tail or be
telekinetic something powerful enough
to heal the world. i swear i thought
the last time i’d think of death with breath
was that balmy day in july when the cops
became a raging fire & sucked the breath
out of Garner; but yesterday i walked
38 blocks to my father’s house with a mask
over my nose & mouth, the sweat dripping
off my chin only to get caught in fabric & pool up
like rain. & i inhaled small spurts of me, little
particles of my dna. i took into body my own self
& thought i’d die from so much exposure
to my own bereavement—they’re saying
this virus takes your breath away, not
like a mother’s love or like a good kiss
from your lover’s soft mouth but like the police
it can kill you fast or slow; dealer’s choice.
a pallbearer carrying your body without a casket.
they say it’s so contagious it could be quite
breathtaking. so persistent it might as well
be breathing down your neck—
Yesenia Montilla
leaves bare their pale
undersides kissed by warm
breaths of heaven beneath
cerulean skies dusted creamy
white, the trees lean, softly
swaying, while lusty cicadas’
swelling swoons ache for
a tryst, a one-day stand before
depositing their progeny in the
clay to sleep for a decade or more,
nestlings on the wing twittering
squirrels chirping, life’s symphony,
butter yellow tomato blooms on the
vine, rose petals blanketing the ground
in fragrant crimson, sublime summer
days like this happen once in a blue
moon, sometimes after a storm,
earth damp, murmuring through
the soles of your feet…breathe,
breathe it in dear heart, for
you are born of all this and
more, eden pulsing through
your veins, divinity bursting
from the deep well of your soul
~kat
