"katla" poems
my baby’s gonna have a loud mouth
like her namesake, katla, boiling lava lips
the two of us will scale those green spines
or ashy asphalt flumes
my baby’s gonna spit when she’s not fine
and fight the men twice her size
she’ll take them up the river
moonlit collarbone show, and pink wine
but my baby’s gonna be a strong guide
she’ll see the world, spreading magma riots,
smiling, soaked in smoke,
erupting all the time.
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC