Poems by K.R. Copeland
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Here, Where Once She Was
by K.R. Copeland
From Canary Summer 2011
K.R. lives in the Chicago River watershed.
Barked things stark against the bay begin to bristle. A dance of hands disfigures curves; murder on the footpath. Sadness gasps, endures unnerving birdcalls. The air is chill and still a little wet long after rainfall. A saltiness aggressively sets in. Who gives a shit if minnows swim these shallows – or if they decorate them belly up? I know enough to know this much; there’s no hope in the boathouse, no shark fin that can fix the sick of us.
© K.R. Copeland
Sure it is Becoming, But
by K.R. Copeland
From Canary Summer 2012
Summer’s middle sizzles
under sprinkler mist,
its thistled arms, char-crisped
past recognition.
The birds that perched now parched.
Leafy partitions
open to a steamy-beaked protest:
close the fucking curtains lest you burn
up all the worms!
A certain charm is lacking
in this atmosphere.
Everything awithering appears
like spears of crabgrass -- caterpillars
twisted in the wind.
A singe of garden,
deathbed wishes croaked.
A head rolls.
Clovers.
Overhead, a large, metallic marsh bug
helicopters,
searching for survivors
of this drought.
© K.R. Copeland