Saturday, November 05, 2005

morning child

the pull down at the corner of a bed sheet
hidden behind baby blue and a glass reflection
of your morning beard to the sound of
blinds opening overtly bright in your good eye.

last night turned to unfairly complicated
her moves across your childhood carpet
and the distinct smell of picture books
turned her into a muse of pleasurable guilt.

the trim of an unpainted heaven reveals her
as a wicked truth amongst comforting lies
and a break from exposure to ritual brushings
leaving way for a finer comb to clean with.


if only every poem came as naturally as this -katy


arch.memory said...

Every now and then, when I get this thirst, for some good solid poetry, I turn to your page. And there, between the images of your life and the everyday, are little gems: consistent, facile, and quiet...

PS: I like the new links.

katy said...

no one's complimented my poetry in such a way, thank you so much. if you were the only one reading my work i'd still feel worth in putting in my best effort, just for you arch. i'd write just for you.

the links are nice, arn't they? have you got a picture i can use for yours? (200x40 pixels).