Poetry by Kat

24 Jan

New blog series: poetry I wrote back in 2008.

I used to love writing poetry. I can’t believe it was already five years ago that I wrote my most recent poem. My poetry muse must have left me. Or I banished her somehow. I was rereading several of them recently, and I must admit that I enjoyed my writing. It was nice to see that passion inside of my younger self still there on paper — well, the computer screen. It took some time to develop a little skill (writing good poetry is harder than you think).

I plan on posting several of the better ones. We’ll start with a tame one; mine can be pretty spicy. For your enjoyment:

“Unmarried people are far more likely to die of all causes than married people.”
Diversity in Families, Baca Zinn, 2008

If we ramble down these sidewalks, you’ll see what I mean

There’s a concert going on outside my apartment,
a 1920s brick building on a tree-lined split street.
The Midtown neighborhood, with purple haired people
and prostitutes being dumped out of cars into gays’ care,
is the first home I’ve ever taken out my heart
to bury in my front yard.
I’m ignoring the music except for the beat that escapes
into my room from the crack under my door
that also lets leaves in during the fall.

When I walk down these sidewalks I might
meet an exterminator who will offer me dinner
and “conversation” within thirty seconds
or smile at a homeless man who hit the jackpot
in cans at a college student’s party.
I might give a funeral to a dead bird
that I will bury in the nearby ivy, leaving
a circular blood stain on the cement.

In a plush chair on my porch, I sit
under Midtown’s constructions of steel
and glass and concreteness. A wooden house
looks rundown amid the cranes bringing
height and more to Atlanta, and I bet the shack
won’t be there long, like trees cut
for power lines and rich views from windows.
Everything that exists now is shoring
for what we want to exist in the future.
The progression is flimsy and fast.

I put words together that later mean more
than what I know right now,
or something drifts away once it is spoken.
I would wonder how those married people
manage to stay alive while us singles succumb to death,
but I’m not dead yet.

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