Cathryn Hankla Poems

Blinded by a chance at permanence,
via satellite I watch a sliver
of Alaskan sun,
wishing darkness could bloom.
...

Painted arrows far below the tenth floor
Point right across the bridges.
Outside Mother's hos­pi­tal win­dow
A bliz­zard blots the soc­cer fields.
...

With no adorn­ment allowed
In surgery, I'm wear­ing two watches.
The first watch is Mother's on a plain leather band.
...

Out of dusky silence and staggering
Time, from a swollen afternoon
Of elevated leg and painkillers,
...

The moon comes up like an almond
And down like an orange.
It wasn't the moon, but the mountain.
The moonfish has a face that ends
...

Each Sunday with the snips
A tin pail half of water
Half of garden blooms
...

I cripple some ants.
I don't mean to, but I do.
Others I squash flat
...

The possibility of saying something becomes more difficult.
The urgency
Of saying nothing rings the ears. Moving
...

There's something I have to tell you. Sorry,
I said,
But I do. It won't take forever, but it's important.
...

The girl floats down the country road-oh how the
glorious cows and pretty horses roam and graze. The girl
wanders past, daydreaming in the pastoral setting, the
icing on the cake she's eating every day. She's thinking
...