It Is January

I drive West, toward the smeary 5 o'clock sun.
The road is blue. The dividers on the road are gold.

The gestalt of a freeway exit: salt residue, bus stop,
cracks in the road. The Beatles play on the radio
and I feel the best expectation is to

just step into the next day.
In the brick of Ohio City, the stiple
of grass and snow. The sign on the church says
God's love is abundant, but
I am a private citizen.

- Kathy Walker


The Sea

Decision is a pearl: the germ of it is there -
accumulated influences, velvet fold upon fold,
washing of milky curtains. Maybe

I am crab skittering on a foggy bottom, choice
articulated as if discrete beady little eyes.

A coral colony is build chunk by chunk. I
like the word crustacean. Like this is a crusty
world successive layers of salt. Also,
the mix of
sand and pebble and weed.

- Kathy Walker



All poems copyright 2004 by the authors. Zine designed by Kathy Walker.