I Talk to Stars

I talk to stars
That leap like
Little fish in aqua seas,
Golden, gleaming scales
Of light,
Singing
With celestial voices,
Trailing sky
Meteor-like--
I talk to stars
To glean life’s rhythms,
Rhythms being
All that we can know of Life,
And troll the skies
With dainty spiders’ nets of words
Seeking
Amid the glistening planets
And glowing passions
Of the universe
One petalled harmony
To wildly entwine
In my silky fine
Brown hair--

kathleen l. smith
All rights reserved

Ode on a Nose

This nose
is the same
as my father's nose,
and my grandmother's nose,
and her father's nose,
and who knows
how far back
it goes.
This nose
is genetically imposed
upon my face,
and whether or not I am
ill disposed
to accept it,
the fact is
as plain as the nose on my face
that
only surgical grace
can transform
my face
and replace
this nose.
Yet,
I suppose,
I've grown
rather fond of the
aforementioned
protuberance,
the obnoxious
proboscis,
and, after all,
a nose
with such
distinguished
antecedents
is nothing, I tell you,
to sneeze at.

kathleen l. smith
all rights reserved