snow litters the
scene your
coat slick wet
your darkness yet
darkens when your
anguish isn’t a flag the
world is an open field
an arrow directing you
elsewhere out of the
tanning bulrush
you riddle you ravn
you monster you nun
what can be the sky
so midnightly luminous so handsomely dangerous
whose solstice storming is more faded
than our meanest days
what happens when a people ban a people
protest you your tongue is shut up in your mouth
your words sounds
did you forget you
Kathleen Maris is a poet and photographer living in Iowa. She earned her MFA in poetry from the University of New Hampshire and is the Fall Residency coordinator for the University of Iowa's International Writing Program. Her work has been published in decomP magazinE, HOUSEGUEST, The Atlas Review, and elsewhere.