12 of 31. Katrina

I watched the galaxy of storm approaching
from an ocean away,


Today, months later
my professor wears tweed

I remember the empty ceramic bowl,
red onion and crumbles of cheese
on the cutting board beneath it

I closed my eyes in the white tent and retold
Italy while it rained the spikes right out
of the mud


In New York the castles are young and strong
my poetry falls on sidewalks and into

Kayln Rock

I encourage greatness from the men
who love my sisters. I sing flowers
into blond curls while it storms.

Khalil Gibran

It rains on the westside
where I ride.
So much time has passed.

Kafka was the Rage

Anatole and Bennett both full of
East Village dirt and women’s
secrets. The clouds swell proud
and purple.

The obscenity comes as a surprise.


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, fall, Poetry and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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