Other Poems by:

Kit Kennedy

WHAT WINTER STOLE

Damaged weathervane
intimate calligraphy
bare trees
snow
winter tarnishes. 

When I grown into my mother
will I wear her face
mirrorís lacquer 
of separation,
spilled milk?

EXPOSURE

Poppies close                
	barricade against night 

I grasp a one-way ticket                         
		  hear distant rain

WHATEVER

The egg-white
cup/saucer 
holding half-drunk
coffee creates 
landscape of stain
pushes you close 
to dove-gray precipicered 
lips smile back
you call time 
whatever she wishes.

THE OPTIMIST OFFERS AN OPINION ON NIGHT, COLD, AND THE MOON

Dark approaches this place
of mature trees that stymies
the butt of wind and rain 
offering a lullaby 
to closing doors
that night foster-childs. 
I say the moon  
is a filament 
across luscious velvet 
the cold envies.

THE EGYPTIANS WOULD APPROVE

what was left
inside my motherís coffin --
two dimes & a pack
of fags 

the Egyptians would approve
whatís found inside
a book --
shopping list
postcard of some art-thing 
inscription (not by the author)     
   the word love so faint   experienced as an echo
**Copyright 2007, Kit Kennedy
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