Kelly Schirmann

New Symbolism

I get this sketchy feeling about words

Sifting through the newspaper
(that's just an old metaphor)

I want to get away from everyone
but I love it out West

I love the mountains
and how new we pretend they are

I love the Western newness
Haunted by death
from the moment its ribbon is severed

To be new is to arrive
in the middle of a conversation
over who gets what

and to be counted

Gold is so malleable

I make my world statues
out of something else

God is Malleable

I now believe angels came down to earth
and bleached their own hair
for decades

They stood in the same ring of people
but never introduced themselves

My soul gets small

Dumped Epsom salts in the bathtub
as the water came down
hard on the [plastic]

I thought it's moody here
and realized I think
I'm moody

Had nothing to contribute
to the message boards

Felt bad about it

Corralled a few scattered terrors
into some art

Ran down the dune
toward the just-set sun
and purpling sky

Beach grasses shaking

Grazing my raw hurt knees

Backward   |   Issue Ten   |   Forward