1.
The rise and fall of seven hills like wavelengths pulsing the monitor,
I write about seven miles in seven styles and still my heart knows no solids.
In concert, they stamp their soft-so(u)led suede into the heart of hilly hills,
Tearing flesh like gills their imprint a wrinkled frown upon the topography.
Tan dust permeating into black felt divorces itself from (the) matter,
As their hats tip in the redness of the mo(u)rning.
2.
Her last name a record, a dog-eared page beckoning closer ears,
“RED SUNRISE”: a Georgia O’Keefe bleeding her insides.
(The war dead innumerable could fit and fill these seven hills,
Their sighs syncopated in the wash of early, red light).
Mine, all mine. (=) Yours, only yours.
Our phon(y)e(na)mes sound different as they stutter into existence.
3.
Triptych: the before, the after, the ever after.
Cracked colonnades like broken teeth litter the landscape,
Yawning a beggar’s mouth.
Earthenware returns the earth to its initial state,
And leaves a fingerprint of turquoise enamel on what’s within reach.
I do (.) give back these smiles and glittering eyes,
Do return all of this and more.
Kamuran Kelly is passionate about all things literary. Her work has appeared previously in Merge Poetry, Toe Tree Journal,and Down in the Dirt among others.