Let’s say the earth opens beneath your feet.
Let’s say valley. Let’s say canyon. Let’s say
wolf-teeth and firebox. Cascading bark.
The world opens. The sky. You are here now,
caught in the grasp of hematite and hell,
a darkened park. The matriarch trampled
by men with crude remarks, terrific cars.
Only the birds stay slumped in evergreen
branches waiting for the last spark to blow
us all in a spinning arc to kingdom come.
Come on. Let’s make a cocksure mark. Let’s not
just say. Let’s yell. Let’s scream. Let’s drive a stake
in it, this vampire world. We, the dauntless,
impervious, lustrous, starstruck, untamed.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 25, Issue 5.
Judy Kaber is the Poet Laureate of Belfast, Maine, and author of three chapbooks, most recently “A Pandemic Alphabet.” Her poems have appeared in journals such as Poet Lore, december, Hunger Mountain, and Spillway. She won the 2021 Maine Poetry Contest and was a finalist for a 2022 Maine Literary Award.
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