Patricia Kinney
USA

Tumwater Falls


I walk by trees
leaves stick out
their tongues

That wooden bench 
to rest these hips

The man with a grey halo
whistling Amazing Grace

A sweetness in 
his swagger

This choir boy

This Morning


My hands stay on my gown
Clinging to the flash
Of orange and red
 
You lower your face
I open the window
You uncup your hands

Our lives play out
Between the lifting sheets
Two nestled question marks

You flip my pages
Like an expensive
book

But I’m just 
a yellowed envelope 
waiting to be sent

Word

Boughs, too, drooped low above him, big with fruit,
Pear trees, pomegranates, brilliant apples,
Luscious figs, and olives, ripe and dark;
But if he stretched his hand for one, the wind
Under the dark sky tossed the bough beyond him.
Homer, from The Odyssey


Give me just one word
And I will devour it whole
Then step away 
Place my hands on
My belly

Dance with it
Dip it and twirl it
Nurse it
Teach it to read

When it’s like a blackberry
Nearly ripe
I will drink its wine
Until I fall