Kit Kennedy



WITHOUT LIGHT what did she see?

& she & time
moved
an inch
or two
& those tulips
so opened
simply closed
in
on dying



from CRACKS

The window offers no impediment nor instruction on how to
undress. What is seen is seen differently, witnessed through astronomy and absence as time is more than an act of light. Sad but worth noting, the next star will not be named for her.

Red is her go-to color. She wears red boots as she waters the plants. As she tries to forget the question she most wants unanswered. She, being a genius at denying shadow.

Dreams are the canvas where she does her best painting.
Don’t underestimate weeds or the imagination of leaves. Which branch will the crow settle upon is a mystery even to the murder. Don’t be duped. Crows love intrigue as much as nest. She returns to a familiar place, awaits the unexpected. Oddly, no crows.




SENTENCES


Perhaps.

She knew.

She had agreed.

To stay wasn’t probable.

She was determined to leave.

She was by all accounts happy.

She took the long journey in stride.

She returned with a renewed appreciation of food.

She considered the Persian cucumber – whole and in slices.


She considered the Persian cucumber – whole and in slices.

She returned with a renewed appreciation of food.

She took the long journey in stride.

She was by all accounts happy.

She was determined to leave.

To stay wasn’t probable.

She had agreed.

She knew.

Perhaps.




1/2 a ROOF

When she shut the door
on the angry mouth
she knew
she was ready
for whatever
weather
awaited her.



Kit Kennedy lives in San Francisco and is SF Bay Times Poet in Residence and Poet in Residence at AWE Gallery. She has 5 published poetry collections.
Please visit www.poetrybites.blogspot.com
 
 
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