Katrinka Moore

Photo by Flash Rosenberg

Meantime

Who knows what people believe
Uncertain landscapes     shift

overlap     Relics of a past
that may not have happened

I think we’re in a meantime     neither
beginning nor end

Between earth and sky     ever-
cycling despair and hope


That porous border where
self touches outside

wild like a full-leaved tree
grown from a seed     lucky

enough to have landed
in an auspicious site lucky

in the weather
the sunlight

(originally published in Exposition Review)


Field Work

Her mind a passerine
claws firm on the bough

her body a flowering
tree     She knows

what’s blooming
A luminist

she sees light
fall into woods

waft over
the undergrowth

A numinist
she reflects

the weave of seen
and unseen

What’s in her fieldbox

A spectrum     spirit
tin     spyglass

mud-splattered
map of the air

(originally published in SWWIM)


Remnants

torn tip of a butterfly
wing     edge of a page ripped

from a manuscript     wind-
caught     half-heard lyrics

abraded frescoes     acrobats
and dolphins exuberant

on an earthquake island     allure
and ache of art     shards

on the floor     palaces built
over ruins     a thought the mind

skirts     door sagging     (lift
and shove)     window with

a broken sash     who stuck in
the dictionary to prop it up

(from Wayfarers, originally published in Woven Tale)


About the Author

Katrinka Moore is the author of Wayfarers, Numa, Thief, and the chapbook This is Not a Story, winner of the New Women’s Voices Prize. She lives in New York City and Manor Kill, New York. katrinkamoore.weebly.com.

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