Five poems by Karen Little

Free poetry, life, mood, poetry, Uncategorized, women writing, writing

I am not a silent poet

The morning after

I explain everything while you’re sleeping;
how I got lost by the river, how the banks were
slippery as eels, how time slipped away, yet
got caught in the weeds at the same time. How
the hooting of owls hypnotized me. How the boat
called me on board; the turbulent water, the throb
of the engine lulled me to sleep.

I was alone, no one touched me, I wasn’t afraid.

When you wake, before I say anything, you assure me
you’d like to tear the lies right out of my throat.  I’m
delicately removing splinters, the needle still hot
from the flame. I feel like the rabbit’s foot dangling
from your key chain, the one you shake in my face. Not
lucky; more like severed, more, loss mixed with shame.

..

Fame

On the first day she learned not to wear underwear
or tight jeans: they mark…

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