TWO poems

Esmé Kaplan-Kinsey

My Near-Dead God

The woods I walked in my youth are cut off. Is it not time that I cease to sing?
—Henry David Thoreau

look at what has been done: the land exorcized
of its poetry. at the delicatessen I order garlic fries,
starchy fruits of the underworld. I am always
looking for the earth in things.

is there a meadow, somewhere, which you know
like the slopes of your own mind? sunlight striking
desperate grass, pine trees all tangy
with breeze?

so is the haunting. so are the hands of the land that will never
hold you again. I am in vexation, know this:
I am a creature devoid of ecosystem. what then could I be
but invasive?

what I sing for is diminished, a ripple of time
smoothed by a near-dead god. there is no voice
after the trees fall. but here, still, there is a meadow—
not mine, but another’s

poetry. so sway its own grasses, its own sunlight.
so I animal out into the living of it all, hungry for something
to translate. may I always hear the words
in the mouth of the world. Dear near-dead god, may I
never cease

to sing.


This is your brain on reality TV

in the lullaby book 

we write songs for children 

not yet born. 

we wail myths 

of our parents, 

their twisted lot. 

we eat lemons 

right off the tree, 

rinse the day off 

in the blister 

of the hot tub. 

we once thought: 

what is the world? what is that bright line on the horizon? how do seabirds find their way home with only
water and wind to guide them? why does the maple tree lose its leaves? why do I lose my voice when I start
to listen? what are the crickets trying to tell me? how do I learn to breathe? without collapsing under all this
glory? 

in the chapel 

we vow to try harder, 

tangle hands in gold. 

a stained-glass 

confession. a sister 

dressed in white. 

we try to vow 

harder. gutter-trawl 

for love. get the remote, 

babe, don’t you know 

what’s on tonight?

Esmé Kaplan-Kinsey is a California transplant studying creative writing in Portland, Oregon. Their work appears or is forthcoming in publications such as Beaver Magazine, JMWW, and Anti-Heroin Chic, and has been recognized by the National YoungArts Foundation and the Scholastic Art and Writing Awards. They are a prose reader for VERDANT, as well as a mediocre guitarist, an awe-inspiring procrastinator, and a truly terrible swimmer. They can be found on X/Instagram @esmepromise

Previous
Previous

Fiction by L Vocem

Next
Next

Creative Nonfiction by Heidi Klaassen