the poetry that matters

Kimberly Ruth

Kimberly Ruth is a recent graduate from SUNY New Paltz where she received a degree in photography and a degree in journalism. She plans to attend graduate school in the fall, where she will work towards an MFA degree in Fine Art. You can view samples of her work at kimberlyruth.blogspot.com.

Praise the Lord

Two strangers, attached at the hip,
shoulder, and knee cap do simultaneous
cartwheels under the direction of the midget,
their father, and his baton.

In the house of mirrors
I looked like the girl I stepped
over in the parking lot.

She was barely there,
just a pile red silk and black
resting next to the tire of
some parked car.

A ten-year-old boy
was on his knees screaming
Praise the Lord

as a man throws a quarter on stage
below the man with wings
in the hanging cage.

In honor of some things

A half-invisible man who was bleeding red
floated up to the sky. To a place that is like here
but better, according to an unsuccessful locksmith

who then suggested we decorate balloons in honor
of the bleeding man.

A bird escaped his cage

as I wrapped the breath-filled capsule in
glue-saturated string and sprinkled it with gold
sparkles and unwanted feathers.

The bird zig-zagged in confusion
as short fingers wiggled to hold him
and put him back behind bars but

the window was open. He flew out.

And in honor of this I picked a star
from the sky

and plugged it in.
The contents of a sealed black box
The doorman extended his hand. Show me,

So I showed him

proof that bed sheets take human form
and empty shirts can still wave goodbye

and whores still roam the streets
wearing pink nail polish

But I don’t know my mother and Daddy’s upstairs.

He shrugged and opened the door and
watched as I walked through
a group of men in tuxedos and women
in dresses who ignored my sneeze.

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