Poetry — January 2, 2013 11:06 — 0 Comments

Ripe – Katharine Ogle

From my temple grows a gray

An honest silver spout
I have a mind to tell my head
That it should be plucked out

And wrapped around, a bow to hand
To remind the sproutling youth
How long we grow and short we stop
Before we’re picked as fruit

The garden worm works through a plum
Where ancient stony pit
Undertakes – a nod – aside
So the hungry hair can itch

Bio:

Katharine Ogle is the writer-in-residence at West Seattle High School and an editor at Poetry Northwest, and also works as a caregiver. She is currently a Made at the Hugo House fellow, working on a manuscript titled The Smallest Gun I could Find.

Leave a Reply

What am I?

Bioluminescent eye
That sees by the shine
Of its own light. Lies

Blind me. I am the seventh human sense
And my stepchild,
Consequence;

Scientists can't find me.

Januswise I make us men;
Glamour
Was my image then—

Remind me:

The awful fall up off all fours
From the forest
To the hours…

Tick, Tock: Divine me.

-- Richard Kenney