publishing poetry only

Monday's Poem

© 2010 Kim Clark

Kim Clark lives on Vancouver Island. Disease and desire, mothering and the mundane propel her ongoing journey between poetry and prose. Kim's work can be found in Body Breakdowns (Anvil Press), The Malahat Review, All Rights Reserved, Ascent Aspirations, as well as e-zines and other publications in Canada and the U.S.

Kim has just completed a short story collection and two full length poetry manuscripts. She has been a 2010 winner in both the SCRATCH poetry and fiction contests and been short-listed in the Malahat Review's Novella Contest.

Turning Small

She keeps eating tender roses,
euros in her pocket,
of various sizes.
They don't help.
They don't rub off.
    Gotten her self
in deeper before.
She can have it,
    take her pick.
Grace Slick says the 60s
were the perfect time
for a person like her
as if . . .

it was eros

    tasting the ashes,
cool ambers in her hand,
small fractions of a woman.
They don't help.
They don't rub off.
Turn her into a diamond.
Pick her a ruby. Call her Lucy,
    letter over to the other
side, hazy purple,
as if . . .


it was yesterday,
tender blooming,
star rubbing,
turning small.