… to the website of Kay McKenzie Cooke
why did we think we were ugly?
Why did we not see how shaped
like flowers our mouths? How clear
like sun on water,
our eyes? We simply did not know how
to shove off the sliding approach
of a jealous future
that muddied our present
with its map bleeding dark ink.
Above is the title poem of my (pending) fourth collection of poetry.
Advertisements
