Kit Kennedy, 7/11

DATING

Consider a recipe
in which the essential
ingredient unlisted.

“Good luck” —  the signature dish.

A meal shared, two mouths taste
the same, separately.  Lips smile
or stiffen.  Clues left,  warp
or weft.  A new moon parses light.

Time and the simple
gesture collide:   judgment
and history.   The solid
and the imperceptible
plated.

Doorbell rings, echo absorbed as grace
or mishap.  Too late to worry why
invitation extended, why
accepted.

The question turns scarlet
and falls, leaves
without prediction.

FOR

this is the life
I am responsible
cat
laundry
bed
food
work

Enters that damn dream
overhead shadow  nebulous swatch
something abandoned

premonition
taskmaster
master of ceremonies
jester
conscience of the unrealized

In rain raven holds mirror
what to make of it?

Tethered to a list
I am fist     restless
trade pillow for grudge    my head lies upon

How I hate
to hate

This is the poem
no one hears

Promote. Poetry.
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