warm-blooded
by
Karah Kemmerly
Karah Kemmerly is a queer poet and fiber artist who grew up in the California Central Valley and completed her MFA at Oregon State University. She lives in Portland, Oregon, where she teaches writing for Portland Community College, works as an assistant editor at YesYes Books, and makes zines through Conjunction Press.
from warm-blooded
my season as a comet
as a collector, I’m relentless. I pull up handfuls
of queen anne’s lace & pocket enough tiny stones
to fill a vial to the brim. by color I layer them—
green on gray on amber—& with a leather cord,
bind them to me. I keep a box full of treasures,
agates & shells from every place that made my ribs
hum. it’s a little magpie, sure, & sometimes heavy—
a blue sunrise haloed above me, dusk settling violet
into a coma around my feet. but isn’t fear the only
fair reaction to beauty? in september I watched
my childhood burn & fell through a strange
orange sky. not everything lasts like I want, I mean.
I promise myself I could never forget but then orbit
wild & eccentric. nothing is ever the same when I return.
