Katie Kadue

Freezing

Christmas comes with garlands
on stairways. Children - rail-height -
pass by and stick themselves on needles.
They stare and stare at pink pinpricks.
Their mouths are round 'O's.
Off they gallop to the playroom.

Dinner and roast beef. The girl won‰t touch
the stuff: for her, dry potatoes and peas.
She baked the pie, but her stomach heaved.
Throughout the meal, flatware clink-clinks
against second-rate china. Everyone is afraid
to make a toast, fearing the wine glasses
to be plastic, or for the girl‰s ears to ring.

Presents in generous boxes feel light.
Children shake and shake - there is nothing there.
Dogs paw at low-hanging ornaments. Gathering around
brittle tree, lopsided cloth angel knitted by mother‰s mother.
Presents from Santa with the same wrapping
as those from mother (and father): conspicuous.
The children rip and tear; the girl crosses arms, contemptuous.

Sleep and gingerbread. Strands of lights twinkle
across gutters. Rain pitter patters while barefoot children sleep.
Girl shivers, eyes open. Dreams are dancing: food uneaten,
hair unkempt. She remembers nothing.
Stares, blankly. Her mouth a round 'O'

OB-GYN

My life melts on a swab of cotton,
my death is stained by charcoal black:
My heart aches for a prodigal son.

I dream of armies on attack
swarming for my hardened womb:
denied, dejected, floating back.

My feet sweat in stirrups, I start to swoon,
lulled to sleep by rhythms of clocks:
tick tock, tick tock, and then - sonic boom.

Paragon

You were so pretty! Your cheeks,
so flushed! As though you had just had
your first kiss. Your smile came easily,
then, your teeth a mosaic of pearly tiles.
'Don't be simple,' you said, when we were trite.
And you sighed lazily, and we thought:
'This, this is what life is about.' You sighed again,
and chastised us. 'You've got it all wrong,' you said.
'You don't know the half,' you said.
But we knew it all. We knew you were beauty,
light and shadow and detail. We had you all figured out
in your mystery. 'She's so pretty!' others would gasp.
And we would lift our chins, triumphant.
You were our exhibit, our shroud,
our religion.

Katie Kadue is a high school student living in Los Angeles. She has been writing poetry for a few years and is just beginning to submit her work to publications. She has a poem forthcoming in Recursive Angel.