Two Poems – A. Marie Kaluza

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Bird, Now Shunned by Other Birds

I bent a bird’s wing

so she flies crooked all her life.

Some call her Rocker.

Some call her Feral.

Some call her Blodeuwedd.

Some call her Saint Jude .

Flying towards the Southern Tyne

to only arrive at the Northern, I bid her

forgiveness, as she is tossed in circles,

looping as Ouroboros

eating wind.

Until the gods build her a contraption, until

her body is blessed by death, ‘til then

she goes with limp, carrying a stone;

and I am to blame. I alone.

I, vile sinner of such distinction.



We Can Not See the End, until we are in it


They instruct,

“The mountain is not far.”


On a narrow highway with one hundred vehicles

I am a lone pedestrian.


A thing has crept into my boot

with its prickly nature, a sea urchin

desperate for warmth.


I slouch and drag my way

through a flatland with hollow soil.


Praying, I bend forward as the breeze

presses me sharply to turn back.


They do not understand.


The mountain is moving; if I do not make it,

it shall sink headlong into the horizon.


A windmill tilting at me,

eating at my still forming self.


I’ll carry all I can with me.

A. Marie Kaluza hails from the USA, resides in Seattle, WA. She is an emerging poet, with works in webzines and journals such as The Blue Nib, Ampersand Lit, Slink Chunk Press, Streetcake Mag, and the most recent volume of the LTA Written Word Series, When Time and Space Conspire. She also has an upcoming publication in the Fall/Winter issue of The Stray Branch, and blogs at Larkspurhorne.net, where she showcases her writing and poetry on a regular basis.


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