Rebirth
I am a bomb
unvested
a slow ticking to tomorrow.
I am moving to the color
of hoofbeats and singing them
in the showers.
I am from the ground.
Someone with callouses
dug me from between corn stalks
as I spit black soil and hummed songs
of worms and sky.
I am going to a blue place
of temple and ice pack
walking a candlelit path
through strange trees
stopping only when eyes turn
to sentiment or an animal
blocks my way.
Then, I am flexed and flowing
coaxing spirit from air
and day-old footprints.
My Dear Cabeza,
You are seeing things lilac
and stone, veins full:
You halve my heart and touch
the limp, pulsing messes
to two temples.
I want to ask you
about new bruises,
about the way you grit
vagus nerve in your teeth.
I’m outside your door
with flowers.
Kate Sanchez earned her MFA in Creative Writing from Columbia College Chicago, where she received the Lannan Poetry Award. She formerly served as Poet Laureate of her hometown, Hanover, Pennsylvania. Her work has been published in various journals, and she is a co-author of The College Mindfulness Workbook.