Oct/Nov 2002 Poetry

Three Poems

by Allen Itz

Artwork by Tara Gilbert-Brever


flying a kite with Katie

and dives
and swoops
and loops the loop,
a blue and white kite
against a blue and white sky

beside me,
brown on brown,
with white teeth
flashing in laughter
at the glory of the day

she holds the string,
pulls as the kite begins to stall,
lets loose when a gust of summerwind
lifts the kite and takes it toward the clouds

and I hold her,
not so tight, she says,
this is hard to do, she says,
back off so I can concentrate, she says

and I back away
as a great flurry of wind comes,
billows her dress against her back and legs
and she seems to fly like the kite away from me


cinnamon dreams

in the dim light
at end of day
I watch you sleep
     still damp
     from the shower
curled on your side
in white linen
     like the center
of a fresh sliced peach
in a bowl of sweet cream

your foot moves
brushes softly against mine

with a quiet rush
     of warm air
      you sigh,
the sweet breath
of cinnamon dreams


my lover moves through the night

as sand
under a cloud-veiled moon
my lover
moves through the night
like breeze
on a summer beach

there is the murmur of the evening tide
in her voice as she nears me, singing


my lover
moves slowly through the night
singing softly
her voice like froth
on the evening tide


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