Nightfall

KAREN KILIMNIK
MY WALK BY MY WOODS – EARLY EVENING – FULL MOON, 2007
WATER SOLUBLE OIL COLOR ON CANVAS
30,5 X 23 CM

Nightfall

“Faith sees best in the dark.”

~ Kierkegaard

Darkness slides in.

Curled on wild thoughts,

you see light in a distant

window, hear pots clang

in someone's  kitchen.

You feel for a candle.

But the darkness lifts your arms,
moves about your knees,
and softens your gaze.

It uncurls your fingers,
and in your palm, it
places a mystery

You begin to see
the dark curves unfold.

You remember.

                                        The doe moves

                                        along a moonless

                                        trail, shy and

                                        hungry. She makes

                                        her way quietly.

                                        Without warning,

                                        the path opens.

                                        Another has been here,

                                        has pressed the wild

                                        grasses down, warmed

                                        them like a nest.

                                       Ringed by whispers

                                       in the dark trees,

                                       she can close her eyes.

This is not how you stay safe.

This is how you survive.

Kathleen Kimball-Baker – September 2015

All mine

All Mine

Tempting, isn’t it, that last slice?

Here is how you take it:

Forget the fork

You will only need your fingertips

Lift the sweetness slowly

and warm it with your breath.

This takes time.

Next, set your teeth around the soft middle

and bite gently, rolling the flavors in your mouth

like a wave

Savor               and swallow

But see that a

few crumbs find

the corners of your

lower lip and stay put —

Those bits are mine.

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r ,  A u g u s t  2 0 1 5

Unfinished

[Mag 286]

 Pose me as you did

            the night we stole inside

the swelling moon,

            the night my hair came loose and we

            polished off a bottle,              

dark and full.

How we fooled that dim morning

leaving damp traces

            for all the world to see

                        and not a soul to know.

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5


Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.

Starter home

[ Mag 285 ]

Together, they thumbed

page after page through

the hefty catalog

until they found the one.

“Yes, that’s it! Perfect!”

They selected furniture, too.

The price was certainly right.

Shipping, however, made

no sense-until the package

arrived. They laughed till

their sides ached.

And they saved it

as a reminder never to

take themselves too

seriously. And then they 

laughed some more.

You see, they had missed

one tiny detail:

“Toy”

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5

Inspired by Tess Kinkaid's Magpie Tales, a blog dedicated to the enjoyment of poets and writers, for the purpose of honing their craft, sharing it with like-minded bloggers, and keeping their muses alive and well.

Earth-Bound

One,
     the North Star,
             keeper of the evermore
Another,
     the Perseid,
           A constant sailor on the Neverwas
And I
        I offer my empty hold,
               and roll the dice of nevermore,
Who, I ask,
       will take me home
                and ink my name on the spiral night?

- K a t h l e e n  K i m b a l l - B a k e r,  2 0 1 5


Image: Hitesh Chhabra at Pixoto