I go out to the garden, see
I go out to the garden, see
the hummingbird is at the feeder.
The sky is cold. It is dark and rainy
as it should be
and here we are, you,
my sweetbitter
unmanageable–you
were that blue,
lanugo-coated
ball of human
the swollen creek
strains through
There is a pause
and the conversation turns
and here we are, here
at the end of things,
the perched birds,
crying and unseen
among the branches—
they are the hardest
to keep down
Yesterday, anger was a sanctuary.
Every two weeks I came home,
tried not to look at the tree
that leans so far–it was like hunger,
this watching
Today it is the crows who speak, finally.
The splintered oak
has leafed out, the sun
flooding
in our wingless,
salty hearts
Source & Method
Kathy Douglas is a Bennington MFA with recent found poems in Unlocking The Word: An Anthology of Found Poetry, Lamar University Press (2018). Her current centos celebrate her adult son’s return home after a near fatal 7 month descent into addiction and homelessness in SF.
Photo by Joel Naren