She sits against the fence and holds her cup,
This little beggar girl, of eight or nine.
Her brother picks his toy accordion up;
His music breaks her morning trance. A fine
Wrought iron rail collects the trash. I think it’s
Mixed with prismatic plastic. Aimlessly,
Dogs pass screened bakery doors, while light from trinkets
Crowns dusty window planters, where I see
Faint ecru-colored roses have become
Sun-parched. Unvarying from day to year,
This is her little fairy realm—wild plum
Limbs strewn with dirty bulbs, her chandelier.
A tin can madrigal begins to rise
On wind. Black sparrows flit upon command,
Like jet-beads scattered in a swift surprise—
Or emissaries from another land.
About Karen Kelsay
Karen Kelsay is a native Californian, who grew up along the Pacific—that should explain her love for writing poetry about the sea. She attended college in Anchorage, Alaska, where she studied art and history, and then devoted much time to traveling, for leisure and the sake of gathering impressions for writing poetry. She has many favorite poets, although her poetry has not been influenced by anyone in particular, she leans toward traditional forms. Karen has been published in a variety of journals including:
The HyperTexts, The Flea, The Raintown Review, The New Formalist
and 14 by 14 magazine. She is the editor of Victorian Violet Press,
an online poetry magazine, and a five-time Pushcart Prize nominee and has written five chapbooks: A Fist of Roots (Pudding House Press 2009), Somewhere Near Evesham (The New Formalist Press 2009), Song of the Bluebell Fairy (Pudding House Press 2010), In Spite of Her (Flutter Press 2010), Buttercup Garden (Victorian Violet Press 2010). Her newest book: Dove on a Church Bench, was published in April 2011 by Punkin House Press.
