Before the Desert
Before the desert, I shook trees for
you, beat bushes, traveled far and wide, high
and low, both inside and out through the course
of unfortunate consequences, the
definition of maturity that
I finally recognize my sense of
self as an illusion. I was in the
same mind as she who is doing something
she will later regret. When you hang a
light from the wall, however, you begin
to see possibility, suddenly
able to remember one good act you
made, a single wave of beauty in the
tip of your finger, the moment you lost
yourself to respond as if the body
did not matter. We can tell each other
everything now, living in a wasteland
we once believed uninhabitable.
–
Moon Doubled and Rare
How do I explain the last night of summer
that I’ll remember, for now that the book bag’s
full, there’s not a lot I’ll recall, careening
through, lucky if I catch my breath. Every time
I unload a litter of kittens, more come
on little pads with intractable claws. I
forsee their future furtively lived in
bushes, no one to purr for or with, a whole
life of singing alone. So we should wave as
I load them for the ride to the shelter and you
drive off in your grandmother’s car, her ashes
in the churchyard, an empty box next to her
for the urn of the man who outlived her,
outcomes random, the moon doubled and rare
~
Sandra Kolankiewicz’s work has appeared widely over the past 35 years, most recently in Appalachian Heritage, Gargoyle, Fifth Wednesday, Prick of the Spindle, Per Contra, Prairie Schooner, Appalachian Heritage, and Pif. Turning Inside Out won the Black River Prize at Black Lawrence Press. Finishing Line Press published The Way You Will Go and will soon release Lost in Transit. Blue Eyes Don’t Cry won the Hackney Award for the Novel. Her novel with 76 color illustrations by Kathy Skerritt, When I Fell, is available from Web-e-Books. She lives with her family in Appalachian Ohio. Here is her Website.