Words Poem by Tony Kitt

I once emigrated
from Jules Verne to Sir Walter Scott.
The wild beasts of my mind cages

followed my teen self.
The boundary stones were similar:
a shirt zebra, a skirt zebra,

but I just liked
the virgin words inside.
The adverse yellow

of the sky passport
showed me the way.
An open-eyed path...

There's always a snowfall inside you.
Then the snow melts.
Some call it Celtic blood.



[First published in First Literary Review - East, USA]