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Poetry By
  K. P. Anderson

Published on: 11/8/2010

If I'd had a different start
I might've turned out quiet
Wandering the halls with a soft pace
Indeterminate from the house settling
Down into its cracks
Watching my charge from the edge of her bed
Her hair scattered across her temple
I might've reached my hand to touch her breath
Smoothing her dreams with gentle vigilance
But I am as I was forged
Shadow-imbued, I howl and howl
And no one sleeps

Published on: 11/8/2010
Adult Literacy Class at the READ Institute,
Chesterfield Technical Center Cafeteria, 8:30 pm

It's about time
For the garage door to open
Signaling my children to scramble
For the remote and scurry to
Their schoolbooks
They bow their heads to their texts
And listen for my wife's soles
Ripping stickily across kitchen linoleum
Her feet are sore as she brings them
Their dinner in a grease-spotted bag
When I get home I will eat
Congealed hamburger
And climb coldly into bed
My head still beating with jumbled words
Letters that jostle on their pages
I have spent hours unraveling
Shapes into meaning
I have brought myself to an understanding
Of proper diet
And children's need of nature
Of everything that should be
And still I have not discovered
The common secret, the procedure
It seems that everyone knows
Of how to fill a central reservoir
Keep it in an upright chest and walk
Eyes straight ahead
Never spilling a drop
Never allowing a ripple

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