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All things vertical tilt
outside is the color of water
even light is dangerous
Within these walls nothing moves
the room is a box of flesh and breath
Trees snatch power lines
and sound is air
that writhes and screams
in conflict with itself.
We skitter like fledglings
far from a bough
Then a call astride the winds
scented like rain and sap
from fresh cut pine
Come here. Let me have you.
From A Poetry Break: Poetry for Your Pleasure (Ocean Publishing, 2004).
Used with the author's permission.
Kay Day is one of those writers who does it all--poetry, memoir, nonfiction, journalism, technical . . . you name it, she writes it--and does it well. Former host of a blog that focused on life and politics in the USA, she currently hosts an arts blog called Indie Art South. Kay is a former columnist for the The Writer Magazine, the author of two books, and her work has appeared in numerous magazines and anthologies. A former South Carolinian now living in Jacksonville, Florida, she is a frequent guest lecturer at schools and political and book events.
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