Tag Archives: wild

The Real Show

The Real Show

The curtains fell
on the last show of the year
with a soft thump of worn velvet
against old wood.

The feathers and glitter
fell from costumes discarded
among the shattered mirrors
and paint pots.

They danced naked
into the dark streets
trailing ribbons of magic.

Past dark doorways,
past dark windows,
to the edge of the city
where the last streetlight gave way
to the wild.

And in they danced
into the greenwood
below the black branches
below the blue-black sky.


Copyright Kay Winter

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Wild Garden

The white roses grow wild
in the garden
season after
neglected season.

The moonflower
reseeds itself in
the cracks of the flagstone path
and the black ivy creeps across the patio
and up the walls of the white house.

A woman’s pale face watches
from the dark windows,
keeping watch.

One summer morning,
when the house and the garden
have become the same green barrow.

She strips off the black dress.
Tears the white veil.
Tears the black veil.

Rips the vine
from the door,
from the back gate,
and walks naked
into the summer fields.

– Copyright Kay Winter

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Collage Poem: Small Town Sea


1-They Never
They never went to the sea
that was past
their back yard
to the night sky
and small town stars
never slipped past the last lights
past the moonlight
on the north end Methodist stones
past the south end gas pumps headlights roadhouse

they never went to the east west
elm-shadowed oak-shadowed maple-shadowed
never stepped over fences
into dark mudded fields
tractor paths
drainage ditches
unfamiliar lost night

2-He Started

He started
inside autumn
coming out from
a golden willow
rake in hand
to the low fence
at the end of the leaf drifting lane
across the cornstalks
at last
stepping over the fence
into the last light

3-She Did

She was the only one
who really knew how to leave
November empty Tuesdays
disappearing between the
pinning up of plain white sheets
toward the fallen fence
at the end of her own street
into the east west trees
into fog
walking with a secret wild smile

4-I Was

I was nothing
until I followed her
from my school desk window
her gray coat a mystery
along the treeline
out of St. John the Baptist school
I followed her field row steps
in last week’s snow
dark plaid girl
over the same fallen fence
following into the east west fog
into fallow field row
into the prairie
into the white sky
in my wet school shoes
waiting with her
for the small town
sea sounds of empty trees.

– Copyright Kay Winter

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