Kay Powers


on the corner of Cotuit and Pimlico Pond Road

eight twentysomethings walk
uncoupled and sober
around the corner towards the lake

where they discuss the likely hood
of leeches, seamonsters and cereal killers

it's 12am and windy, but the water is warm
and their feet find the slippery rocks
a worthy challenge against balance

their laghter can be heard across the lake
in the neighboring town

by two retired marines
fishing off the side of a dock
remembering what it was like

at twentysomething and single


in the Canterbury Plaza

four leaf clovers grow in excess
behind the local pizza place

two teenagers make out
in the back seat of an accord

as lightning strikes the light post
beside them

and the clovers are nourished
by another summer shower


on Great Neck Road

a young man falls in love
with the busty brown beauty

behind the farm stand

selling local fruits and vegetables
she touches your hand when she hands you your change

and cradles each vegetable
with the compassion of a mother

who watches her first born
ride away on a big yellow bus on the first day of school


Reoccurring

the bandwidth of neighbors around
an illegal fire. baking in the hidden
life of a forest. seeking kin.

an anthem or march
for disunityfor class structure and servitude.
we sing at different volumes. but we all sing.

in our own tents, pitched with pegs
of different metal make,
we consider ourselves resolute and beautiful.

like poets. writing about blossoms
and death, within the same clumsy stanza.


left out

she dreamt of meeting him
in a grocery store

debating over a tea choice
the perfect bag of chai

or a blend of green and white
leaves embedded in silk

a blend of two colors
in a bed of cotton and down


an ode to two 17 year cicadas

you flew into my car

i thought you were a bird

cicada a, chip chirping away
in the back seat of my malibu

cicada b, catching the breeze
you strode up my arm, ambitious

i took you both to starbucks, even though
you don't like coffee