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Kansas
by Alison McKenzieThe dirt in Kansas
Is a fine, gray powder.
It coats everything
Like a gesture
Of ownership, I guess.
The nearest bus stop is
Over a mile away,
And no bike lanes.
I haven’t spotted many
Pedestrians either.
It occurs to me that
It must not be a particularly
Great place to walk.
I saw a beat-up,
Motor-driven caravan headed north
On one of the streets without sidewalks.
It had tinker goods
Clanking on the outside,
And I wondered about
How they didn’t fly off
In the state that’s home to
So many tornadoes.
The houses here
Are still stick built,
Tapered roofs that are
Cornered and easy
Targets for the twisters.
I wonder why I don’t see
More domes.
The birds and the crickets
Remind me of Oklahoma –
Not a glimpse of sea salt,
Nor bark of those
Pumungous sea lions
Who sang me to sleep
Along with the blackberries.
09/16/2011 Author's Note: I keep telling myself there's a reason....
Posted on 09/17/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ben Evans on 09/17/11 at 08:41 AM I've never been to the US, but your poem took me there for a few minutes. I like how you notice and effectively use the everyday, the reality of life. There are some great images here; I particularly like the first and fourth stanzas. I've suggested this for poem of the day. |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 09/18/11 at 03:55 AM Being on the ocean all my life, I cannot fathom a place as long and flat and lonely as Kansas, Alison. The fact it is a haven for tornadoes just makes me wonder more. Your poem captures its essence as much as any I've ever read. |
| Posted by Joe Cramer on 09/18/11 at 05:09 PM ... quite poignant.... it will all work out, it always does, though never exactly as we first surmise.... |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 09/24/11 at 03:13 PM Wow! This is really beautiful, but tinged with a haunting vocabulary also. Excellent description from start to finish. |
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