Two poems by K. A. HAYS

Windthrow


Some shudder       some go without fear

Soon dirt skips up      laurel frilling

the downed one      Yes      time too

 
bunches and waves      pressed

as from the thrown     seeds shed casings

slip out      hello


heat whipping to cold      the clouds bloated

to rumble and clot      to tarry

panting      speaking in tongues
 

yes     happy as I

or as you      small one  

Now the sapling       clung to the giant

 
who is the giant      climbs on

the roots of the ripped-down      drinking

digging in      Come then      here

 
 
 
129 The Paris-American

Windflaw


Only the mundane middle-of-things

stays green      flamed by the brilliances


             (bud roused red      or broke-gold leaf)

             Blinking into      and flashing out


the hues squall      as the city soon-to-be sounds

like the city soon gone      and the just-born


             squints like the dying      See

             how the first leaf      wrinkled 


unstrong      finds windflaw

and clings      then clinging


             having unpinked      wet

             and glad      goes bronze

 
 
 
130 The Paris-American

K. A. Hays is the author of Early Creatures, Native Gods (2012) and Dear Apocalypse (2009). Her poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Best American Poetry, The Kenyon Review, American Poetry Review, jubilat, and many other venues. She currently lives in Lewisburg, PA, and teaches at Bucknell University.

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