Barren City

He is trying to teach us—this Time
It is the capital H cast in the Sunbeams
That overflow my pane
In the Morning—scuff marks

On hardwood—specks in the Space
Between bricks in the sidewalk—
In the square where a brick had been—
Air that expands into each Corner

Of the room as soon as the cracked
Window whirls the Dust alive—grass
Billowing along the Charles—motionless
Ducks in the garden—my God, the bluejay

Blurting into Oblivion, to the oblivious—
Bees, ceasing, deceased—Red wine
In the fridge—the orchid wilting on
A sill in sunlight—obedient Dog
At the door—the shadow behind Him.

Kakie Pate recently graduated with an MFA in poetry from Emerson College where she worked as the head poetry editor for the literary journal Redivider. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in DIALOGIST Journal, Rock & Sling, West Trade Review, Yes Poetry, and Entropy, among others. A native Virginian, she currently resides in Boston, Massachusetts.