Kimmy Walters lives in San Diego. She tweets @ka_waltz. More information can be found on her website, kimmywalters.xyz.

2 poems by Kimmy Walters

SPINNING ASTERISK

 

head of baby dog appears

in car window

immediately wreathed in

bubblegum vape cloud…

 

things to google when I get home:

moonlight tower

best pancakes in san diego

list of multiple births

 

my name always marked by

spinning asterisk

in whatever list…

 

will I be called sweetheart this week?

of course I will

it’s gotten to the point that I believe

I might be one

 

though I would fuck my body up

to make one person realize

that hurting me was wrong

 

or even to prevent him

from enjoying a beach

 

but this offer is not on the table

so I am doing it for no reason

 

it does feel so good…

in a way that few things do anymore

 

I wish more things felt like

eating raspberries or touching an animal

 

but these are the rules…

with so many asterisks strung through

them they are skylike

 

fairy lights in some dorm room in a

landlocked state…

 

I wouldn’t be surprised

if earth turned out to be

just one organ

in some big dead thing

no not the heart

THIS YEAR

 

it’s like boat wrapped

in christmas lights under the moon

 

it’s like pit bull with lavender claws

 

or mildness so intense

you can’t even begin to ignore it…

 

it’s like girl saying

have a good day at work

as she hands you your coffee

 

and you feeling overwhelmingly

that you are somehow her husband

 

you’d do anything for her!

 

 

it’s like crying because

you know you can’t afford her tuition…

 

it’s like red train with

intermittent violence

 

or bird on seventh floor…

 

or prozac lost in bedsheets…

 

or bonbon at terminal velocity…

 

or a crime caught in intervals on a trail camera…

 

it’s like essential oil in the diffuser and

cold toast on the plate

 

it’s like…every human hair in the ocean

forming one big knot

just to show off!

 

it’s like

mentally recategorizing

swiss army knife

as gift

after you wrap it,

 

then formally surrendering it to a

woman in uniform at the airport…

 

it’s like image of a nebula, fully

colorized so it can be understood visually

from so far away

 

or drunkenly braiding your own hair

while your roommate tells you about bad art…

 

or inability to fall asleep unless there are

mice in the walls…

 

it’s like boyfriend in the distance,

softened by easy weather

 

it’s like

 

trying your best not to say

don’t look down

 

because it didn’t work last time