Love, 20 years long, waning.
Love, golden rings wearing thin.
“A whore in the sheets.” that’s what he said he wanted.
He’d spit and say, “But you’re too Catholic.”

He made love to mirrors like Narcissi
Bathroom mirrors, vanity mirrors, rear view mirrors.
I used to wait for him to fall in
and slit his throat on shards of silvered glass
I should have pushed him but I was too Catholic.
This golden ring tightens. I lick my finger and pull it off.
I hear it jingle and roll as it hits the ground.
I don’t look back.
Kathy Keogh.

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Poets and Children
make Snow Angels in the sand
In August.
Swearing they see their breath
as they laugh.
Poets and Children
believe in Magic and Love,and Happily Ever
Hopscotching through life
catching lightening bugs
Naming them
and then letting them go
yelling,”NOT IT!!!”, at the top of their lungs.
But when Life
taps them on the shoulder
with it’s cold, hard truths
We are all diminished
Everyone swallows hard
at the tears
of poets and children.
Kathy Keogh


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I saw a shadowy figure
in Duckett’s Grove
She was darkness
Her flowing gray hair
as if she was caught an a strong wind
But the air was still this night
It grew cold
bone chilling cold
I could see my breath
I could see my breath
this night
in July
This figure
This darkness
This specter
wore a shroud
and it too blew in the phantom wind
Then this shadow
this darkness
this curse
opened her mouth
and let out a shrill scream
that pierced the night
She was Banshee
and she felled me
in Duckett’s Grove.
Kathy Keogh


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Buried in 5’6″ of dirt
and peat
I begin an archeological dig on my heart
With my flat blade shovel
I gingerly dig into the hard earth
I spot my heart
I get my trowel and assorted brushes
I gently brush away the years
A screen is essential when excavating a heart
As I sift through the years
I find lockets and diamonds, baby shoes,
misshapen golden rings, old poems and broken vases
I record all of the found items
I brush the last of the dirt away
I find my well worn heart
it still beats
Mended breaks and fissures are evident
Today I dug up my heart
and covered it back up with Hope and Star Dust.
Kathy Keog

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Sometimes the thread
on which faith hangs
is thin
and twisting in the
that thread
that thin thread
that thin twisting thread
is enough.
Kathy Keogh

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You drew love
like works of art
carved it deep
into my heart
i look around and you’re not here
with all the words you spoke so clear
It was in your eyes
to have and to hold
Love was only lies
written in smoke

Like a dream
I can’t awake
My poor heart can only break
I believed with all my might
but it was all a play of light
The cold wind blows
The cold wind blows it all away

kathy keogh


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His heart beats to Jazz
Missing a beat
here and
Living in the emotion
of the moment
Oblivious to being
He scats his love to me
My heart beats in 4/4 time
The rhythm of walking
Born from the Blues
Straight forward
with a back beat
My voice cracks
as I confess my love
it rhymes
Our eyes dance.
Kathy Keogh.


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