All the tin roofs red,
redder still in colorless January,
pitiless and hard-edged.
A mocking pass of clouds
hoards the light.
A sparrow hawk hovers mid-flight,
calls out a clangorous vibrato,
insists I take notice,
mark his appearance as a tryst
beyond coincidence, react accordingly.
When is the last time something shook me
from my nexus of closed eyes,
hours spent solemnly resurrecting
my silent dead, censuring
myself with bereavement?
The rumble of a low passing plane
rattles my vertebrae. I smell the way
the air fidgets, its blitz of frost and fury
about to quicken, my feet willing
themselves forward, my hair
blown back, skirt flying.
The slideshow of our lives
is never not playing.
We all draw straws,
not everyone who asks, receives.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 5.
Kari Gunter-Seymour is the Poet Laureate of Ohio, the curator/host of the online series Spoken & Heard, the Executive Director of the Women of Appalachia Project, and the editor of its anthology series Women Speak. She is the author of three award-winning collections of poetry, her most recent, Dirt Songs (EastOver Press) is winner of the 2025 IPPY Bronze Award and the 2025 Feathered Quill Award. Her work has been featured in the American Book Review, Poem-a-Day, World Literature Today and The New York Times.
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