kallie falandays

3
The Poem in which I Forgot to put a Light Switch This is our history: one day it was raining. I don't think it was raining when I was born. When I was born you were a blue bird. A black eye. A peacock, you big guy. You were a moon-stone, a sun-rock, you were the charcoal and I was the clock you were the stone-belt and I was the dirt. I was the star-shine and you were the earth. Love me back in to your earth-dirt, your mud-nails. let me rummage through your spring hair, you rough rock. Let me in to your moon-song, your nighttime your blind-light. You're off white! Let me in to your truth-speak, your mountain knees. Let me tremble in the ocean of your throat. Let me vibrate in the darkness of your throat songs. Let me sing you all the way to bed and wake you up in the morning. Let me give you coffee. Let me tuck you in a poem. Here, this is a poem. I wished you back into pages. I'll let you sleep here. Here. This is your bed You can live here. There are birds here.

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The Poem in which I Forgot to put a Light Switch & Blackout by Kallie Falandays

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  • The Poem in which I Forgot to put a Light Switch This is our history: one day it was raining. I don't think it was raining when I was born. When I was born you were a blue bird. A black eye. A peacock, you big guy. You were a moon-stone, a sun-rock, you were the charcoal and I was the clock you were the stone-belt and I was the dirt. I was the star-shine and you were the earth. Love me back in to your earth-dirt, your mud-nails. let me rummage through your spring hair, you rough rock. Let me in to your moon-song, your nighttime your blind-light. You're off white! Let me in to your truth-speak, your mountain knees. Let me tremble in the ocean of your throat. Let me vibrate in the darkness of your throat songs. Let me sing you all the way to bed and wake you up in the morning. Let me give you coffee. Let me tuck you in a poem. Here, this is a poem. I wished you back into pages. I'll let you sleep here. Here. This is your bed You can live here. There are birds here.

  • The Poem In Which I Forgot to Put A Light Switch This is our history: One day it was rani ing. I don't think it was raining when I was born. When I was born you were a blue bird. A black eye, a peacock, you big guy. You were a moon-stone, a sun-rock you were the charcoal and I was the clock you were the stone-belt and I was the dirt. I was the star-shine and you were the earth. Love me back in to your earth-dirt, your mud-nails. let me rummage through your spring hair, you rough rock. Let me in to your moon-song, your night-time your blind-light . You're off white! Let me in to your truth-speak, your mountain knees. Let me tremble in the ocean of your throat. Let me vibrate in the darkness of your throat songs. Let me sing you all the way to bed and wake you up in the morning. Let me give you coffee. Let me tuck you in a poem. Here, this is a poem. I wished you back into pages. I'll let you sleep here. Here. This is your bed You can live here. There are birds here.

  • Kallie Falandays has poems published in, or forthcoming from, PANK, Paper Darts, ILK, Deluge, The Dirty Napkin, Black Warrior Review, Salt Hill, Skydeer Helpking, and Tupelo Quarterly. She edits Kenning journal and mojo magazine.