Category: KIM’S POETRY

THE LIGHTHOUSE AT MARION STRAIT

I long to glimpse the lighthouse at Marion Strait,

And at last spy the entrance to my homeward gate.

Like a mother I called to in the cold foggy night,

Against dark stormy skies, she stood strong and forthright.

My world was a reflection in her pristine glass,

The once beckoning beacon to my peaceful past.

 

Now crystal and candle are deaf to my woeful calls.

Her granite bones lie scattered as driftwood on shoals.

Wind pierced, salty eyes laden with rain

Search for her bright fiery heart.

But all that remains is an abyss upon an

Endless ocean without chart.

A mournful gale blows me closer to dark rocky shores

In a night moonless and angry.

My once trusting ship is wayward and small,

Drowning in a sea, eagerly hungry.

Without your light, I am doomed to drift.

 

GUILT

It begins small-

Just one grain

Of granite soul,

A tiny piece

Of thoughtless sand,

Wind eroded.

It breeds itself

Particle with particle.

Seeping into pores,

Filling boots,

Suffocating steps with

Weight that leaves

You feeling ‘motionless.

Sinking deeper,

Pressing heavily

Against the heart,

Stopping beats.

Then blinding eyes

Of absolving light,

It buries you alive-

Like quicksand.

BERNELL’S BOY

I’m sitting in a booth

at an east Texas ice house.

Waiting in the smoky shadow of blues

for the local boy done good.

Listening to the rumble of Ducati on the rocks,

the clink of cubes and glass

a jukebox’s rhythmic whirl.

The deep lonesome moan of a stool

sliding across old pine floors, crooning.

Swinging jazz, cold beer, and

Louisiana hot sauce hissing back at me.

With soft sandy boot falls,

two-stepping into my heart

he enters.

Tall and thin, dark and smiling,

hat in his hand,

picking my cold steel

heartstrings and asking,

Ma’am, is this seat taken?

No, I say, just me.

Just Lovett.