by Sarah E. N. Kohrs
Transparent glass is always
|: cold to touch— pressed intimately
against the lip, as if kissing
the taut cheek of someone
never known for their warmth
and love. ⊕ We see it coming and yet
still ignore it—hoping death will pass
because we took a vaccination
or a pill that promises longevity
of mind. Rewinding time, so
we won't have to look at the image
of an alien molting that creeps up
unexpectedly. Sallow. Shallow.
Fallow form that knots up the story
of us like intricate quipu left to someone
that only sees colorful, frayed threads :|
_____________________
Read to the repeat :|
Return to |:
Read to the coda, ⊕,
which brings the poem to resolution.
Sarah E. N. Kohrs (SENK) has over eighty poems published in journals, such as Arboreal Literary Magazine, Culinary Origami, Elevation, Louisiana Literature, and Stoneboat. SENK is the recipient of the Peter K. Hixson Memorial Poetry Award. Her chapbook, Chameleon Sky, earned the Kingdoms In The Wild 2022 Poetry Award. She is also a homeschooling educator, potter, and fine arts photographer. Sarah lives in Shenandoah County, Virginia, on land that belonged to the Manahoac, and works to kindle hope amidst asperity. Her website is https://senkohrs.com.