From the Treehouse

Mandolin

Unzipped from bed,

whirling a dervish

from the loamy bubbles.

I’m on the back

of last night.

Blind as a bird,

stopping only at

my enemy.

BK

May 2015

Now

Now

It is easier to be me

now that I've wizened with

these freighted days

of low cotton.

I don't hear 

your mordant skepticism

now.

I'm busy

playing dress-up

and curdling the milk.

My child's smooth

legs fall around my hips,

shaping his body like a frog, laying down

warmth.

BK

April 2015

When you get back can we start the day?

When you get back can we start the day?

Dozing, in a stupor,

night-battled, the mischievous mouse

gnawed and gnashed

in girded conquest.

I’ll meet you at the ocean

near Gethsemane.

Like a crowned soldier

harrowing shines on shoes.

BK

April 2015

with Jacob in mind

Square-Opening

old-soak

shin-bone

choo-choo

snap-on

hard-knock

BK

April 2015

for my dear dad

Moon-walk

Pecking for what

isn’t nailed down.

Who will notice

or suspect me.

(I never even looked at it

again.)

Or take me.

as I am.

I wish this would go on forever,

maybe it does.

My father said as the conductor and I helped him off the train.

I’m in the mood to sing.

Don’t look them in the eye.

Small too, small is good.

No sound.

Just like Bonnie and Clyde,

outlaws.

April 2015

BK

for Philip Guston

Worried Shoes

(inspired by Philip Guston)

I made a rock

out of a stone

a toe

out of a foot

a rug out of a handle bar

mustache.

He says crunches for crutches

remember-y for memory.

Parts folding like a cardboard pony in my pocket.

Fingers pointed in

opposite directions

her countenance

belied her

truancy.

We are both saying

we are okay

but we are not.

Beth Krumholz

Winter 2015