Fragment
Protest poem by Katherine M. Gotthardt
Facebook Poetry
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Of all pandemics I’ve survived, you are my favorite, teaching me what it means to be alive. Okay, I admit it, you’re the only one I’ve lived through, keeping me in my basement, (thankfully not alone), typing through Poetry Month, working from home, ordering groceries online – how much more privileged could I possibly be?
Language
The irony of language: it’s a gorgeous word. Say it out loud: language. Say it for the sake of linguistics. Say it for the sake of auld lang syne. Say it for the sake of now, celebrating it daily, hourly, prefix, suffix, present participle, all that was and is and still could be. Let your
Off
Turn off the morning news. Go to the old stereo. Turn on the blues. Because if anyone knows the trouble you feel it’s the songwriters, musicians, making it real, telling us what it is to be alive, how every thought has a place, how every pain has brought us closer to where we need to
Every Atom
That day you hummed the song of myself – I assume you assumed I’d fallen for it. I did. Have you felt so proud since, every atom belonging to me belonging to you? Well? Have you? Apologies to Walt Whitman
Tossed
Paper sheets the floor, tossed with two red pens, caps, White-Out, and angst. Another manuscript salad gone wrong.
Pawn
You brought it to the pawn shop, the only silver I’d ever owned. Perhaps I’ll buy it back. Save it from strangers. Give it to you for Christmas. Oh, your eyes.
Recall
Recall waves bye like a tired baby, confusion puckering, the right words already asleep, unintelligible taking over. No one seems to know why. Maybe it’s the surgeries. Maybe it’s the age. Maybe it’s the strict stride of burdensome time, the hobble of gray matter trying to keep up, child reverting to crawling, attempting to cruise,