Katrinka Moore

Someone had marked on the page


         A side door unlatched, she enters, thought crossing the mind. Sings a string of words under her breath. Forager. In the study, mahogany roll-top desk, a framed topography of the moon. Mare Marginis. A skein of geese skims the roof, the honks may mean encouragement, or warning. A series of gentle tugs. If it comes to it, decamp and let the Thracian have your shield, Archilochos. Hand reaches into pigeonholes, rifles through cigar-box drawers: frayed postcards, tangled filigree chain. Pulls open a tiny square door, a knob for a doll to grasp. Map of the wind road. Unlockable. Outside you could have heard their wings flap. Folds the chart under her arm, a delusion to want to unravel it.

All Winds / One Wind

Katrinka Moore is working with One O’Clock, a group of poets, on an anthology to be published in fall 2007. Recent poems appeared in listenlight 08.

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