A Poem by Kate Colby



Wind can’t move the light
only what’s in front of it.

Stirring shadow-
shaped leaves

or dead specimens
in Plexiglas? Dodo

is a word, a museum
of museums.


Every time I hear Rocket Man
I’m reminded of you

reminded of me
every time you hear Rocket Man.


* A thing complete in itself.

All that I can see from
the distance of the sun

the moon has broken
up with its light.

I was caught, kissed
in the teeth of a time-
worn cemetery —

love isn’t real
only how you feel it.

Kate Colby’s books include I Mean and Fruitlands. The Arrangements is forthcoming in 2018. She has received awards and fellowships from The Poetry Society of America, RI State Council for the Arts and the Woodberry Poetry Room at Harvard. She lives in Providence.