In the distance, haleakala

Phi Kappa Phi Forum, Spring 2003 by Clark, Karla

its blue-ly drifting mass. You beg the rusty soul Quicken.

Sky is flying everywhere like night blooming moths.

But some part of the soul isn't strong enought, it is

resting, a stray black and white cat

asllep after, finally, food.

And when will you. Wake up. When the stray is made strong

on mouse bodies? When it's finished its meal of mouse bone?

You got out anyway. You say even if & etc...

One air holding it all...

Across the channel light

streaks multiple greens though the canyons

like combings of sun through their hair

You got out.

Bright taste of bone on your tongue.

Karla Clark has been writing poetry for ten years. Her work has been published in convulvulus and Loose Associates. She was the recipient of the Anna Davidson Rosenberg Prize in 1998 in the category of emerging poet. She and her husband live and work in Northern California.