Saturday, October 14, 2023

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 7, 2023

by Katherine West




Even in October 
butterflies crowd 
the butterfly bush
are lifted by the cold 
wind then released 
to drift back to their magenta 
breakfast
in a flurry of giant 
orange flakes 
of Halloween snow 
or fire 

The high rise looks like 
a grey ice cream cake 
left out in the summer 
sun so that slabs 
of cement melt and slide 
down its sides to the street where 
grey children lie 
with their eyes shut 
the party over 
time to go home 

The prairie dog sits up
on its hind legs 
still and alert 
waiting for danger—
shadows of crows 
pass over him and away 
like the low-flying planes 
in black and white newsreels 
of World War Two 

Pale blue flowers 
still cling to the tips 
of the rosemary bush 
but the lavender 
and thyme are dried out 
helpless when the wind 
drives down the mountain 
strips them bare 

In this house the cabinets 
are full of supplies—
ten of everything, power 
to run fountains 
in the desert 
thick walls to keep the heat out 
to keep the heat in--
a fat door like that 
of a castle

Vultures come in a black 
rush sometimes--
the body bags are white 
as lumps of sugar 
with the corners 
licked off


Katherine West lives in Southwest New Mexico, near Silver City.  She has written three collections of poetry: The Bone Train, Scimitar Dreams, and  Riddle, as well as one novel, Lion Tamer. Her poetry has appeared in journals such as Writing in a Woman's Voice, Lalitamba, Bombay Gin, The New Verse News, Tanka Journal, Splash!, Eucalypt, Writers Resist, Feminine Collective, Southwest Word Fiesta, and The Silver City Anthology. The New Verse News nominated her poem “And Then the Sky” for a Pushcart Prize in 2019. In addition she has had poetry appear as part of art exhibitions at the Light Art Space gallery in Silver City, New Mexico, the Windsor Museum in Windsor, Colorado, and the Tombaugh Gallery in Las Cruces, New Mexico.