In My Dream

In my dream I was a fallen princess.
It was so quiet I could hear the wind changing its mind.
You were wearing your deep purple high tops
As we sat eating mangoes soaked in rum.
You asked, “What do you want?”
I answered, “I want freedom from myself.”
You were sure if we hid, Death wouldn’t find us
Even though we knew it was time.
My dog, Life, and I
Went out and saw the moon.
No man was in it.
He was on a break.
Or Death had found him first.
We didn’t know.
You brought your cat, Hope,
To play with my dog.
We had sex and died right after.

©Kathryn Atkins
Fall 2004

Stand Closer

Orange and yellow lilies
Mixed with fuzzy brown grasses
Bend softly, ballerina style
Over the edge of the chipped clay pot.
Stand closer and you’ll smell them.

Hop-red double impatiens
Sport blooms
Pushing for attention
Against the green fichus wall.
Where rats play tag in the tangled branches.
Stand closer and you’ll hear them.

Don’t-you-love-it purple flowers
Survive
Next to the spreading snow-white alyssum.
I am the garden where they grow.
The rats are my sins.
Stand closer and you’ll see them.

© Kathryn Atkins
Fall 2004

Reading Stacks

How many reading stacks do you have?

How high and how wide are they?

How many gosh darn magazines

Can accumulate every day?

How many books are sitting there

Waiting to be read?
There’s a novel, a history, a self-help, and a mystery

Piled up by your bed.

“I’ll get there,” you say.

“I’ll read them some day.”

“I’ll do it when it’s raining.”

The rainy day promise just never comes

And the reading stacks keep on gaining.

“I’ll cancel subscriptions.”

“I’ll never renew.”

Until the kids next door

Come selling like they do.

Your friends know your weakness.

They know you won’t say no

To books they have read,

Or meant to months ago.

They pass them unconscious

Of the burden they bring.

You love them; you hate them

You’re afraid you’ll miss something.

Then one day you rise

To the smell and gag of smoke.

To your credit you grab your cat, your hat, and a coat.

You run out the door

Leave the stacks on the floor

You bid your house adieu.

And the reading stacks, too!

---© Kathryn Atkins

April 24, 2006