i s s u e: 2
// p o e t r y
Visualization Exercise
by Kate Kadleck
Lightning scissors through
the construction paper sky.
All I see are jagged edges.
Do you remember how it felt
when the world was soft? I know,
I know, trick question—it never was:
crooning birds, a thumbprint
moon, pastel flowers stretching
their lithe torsos out of the dark,
damp earth. Joy leaks
from a mother’s mouth,
and she doesn’t apologize.
about the author // Kate Kadleck
| Kate Kadleck (she/her) is a marriage and family therapist and lifelong nesting doll collector. She spent her girlhood in a northern suburb of Chicago and her college years in Gambier, Ohio. Kate currently resides in a midcentury modern house in Dubuque with her fiance, two dogs, four hens, and presumably a ghost or two. Her poetry can be found in The Indianapolis Review, The Garlic Press, Tenth Muse, and elsewhere. |
Instagram: @kathrynkadleck
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