Poetry from KB Baltz

Photo: sandid

Bower Birds

After the fire
grandma’s house
with its glass eggs
cat knick-knacks
and ancient china
was pushed into the sea
by a yellow bulldozer
with no sympathy
for memory
or the smell of mothballs
and hand rolled cigarettes.

After the fire
grandma’s house
was pushed into the sea
and red headed girls
ran on the beach
below the new blue home
to pick pretty patterns
from the sand
with no sympathy
for memory
or creosote cracks
in ancient china.

Red headed girls
ran on the beach
leaving ancient china
and broken glass eggs
piled on the porch
like bower bird nests
and grandma sweeps
the memory from
a house that smells
like mothballs
back into the sea.
.

.

KB Baltz was born in a Cosmic Hamlet by the Sea, a month early and sideways. She has been doing things backward ever since. When she isn’t writing, KB can be found screaming into the void while finishing up a BS in Fisheries. You can find some of her other work at Inquietudes, Gnashing Teeth, and Rouge Agent.

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