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The Poetry of Angie
Kennedy
*****
Origami Heart
by Angie Kennedy
He hands her an origami heart
in place of what he took from her.
Smiling like he did the right thing, he explains,
“Look how delicate the paper,
how intricate the folds! ”
She nods, because that is what she does best.
He laughs at her pain, forgetting
about the blade on his tongue.
Slicing her with each word, he says,
“You know I’m not worth this,
why are you bleeding? ”
She drinks because that is what he expects.
She lights the white sage and clears the air,
wears the moonstones,
reads the book,
writes the letter,
looks at the roses,
opens the vodka,
and sleeps.
*****
Peridot and Gold in my Eyes
by Angie Kennedy
A two hundred foot cross breaks against the sky
in a field somewhere in Illinois,
and it promised me salvation last week.
But when that truck swished by fast
towing a wreck that felt like death,
I knew there was no redemption coming my way.
I close my eyes and I still see the road coming at me,
bathed in peridot and gold,
but I can’t touch it because it isn't real.
A cross breaks against the sky
in a field somewhere,
promising nothing.
*****
A Simple Field
by Angie Kennedy
She is right about me, you know,
I have nothing eloquent to say.
When I gaze at the goldenrod
floating on a resting field,
no fluid prose jumps from my lips.
Deep thoughts don’t arrange
bouquets in my mind, and
I’m not overwhelmed with the
soft fragrance of you.
No pink satin ribbon memories
are tied around green stems
and offered to you.
It’s just a field of goldenrod.
*****
Ashes to Dust
by Angie Kennedy
I’ll never rest in the cold ground,
Please don’t plant me in death’s garden,
Remember me in bright, light sounds,
And set me free on a westward wind.
Don’t mark my life with a cold stone,
Let my spirit frolic on a warm breeze,
Remember me with a soft moan,
And with a sweet kiss set me free.
I’ll never rest in the cold ground,
Those who love me know it's true,
No silk pillow will make my sleep sound,
No silk bed will be for me less cruel.
Don’t mark my life with a cold stone,
My memories remain in your heart,
Let my ashes be gently wind blown,
And from you, my love, I will never part.
*****
Bug Gut Love
by Angie Kennedy
See that firefly?
Lightning bugs, he called them,
catching them in jars and pulling
their fluorescent bellies off
to make me a ring and a bracelet,
bug gut jewelry from poor dead fireflies.
Sometimes he would write
our names on the sidewalk with them,
“Mike loves Angie, ” the smears glowed,
and I glowed in my eleven year old mind,
but out loud I yelled, “No, no! ”
See that firefly?
Sneaking out the window,
down across Nana’s field to the creek,
holding my hand he’d spin me around and steal a kiss.
“Mike loves Angie, ” he’d whisper, and
I’d whisper back, “Me, too.”
I was fifteen going on twelve again,
still glowing with innocence.
“See the fireflies? ” he’d ask.
*****
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