Boil [Kin Kelli 5] – A Poem by Katy Santiff

Dawn in the Desert – Aleksey Savrasov

Poetry by Katy Santiff

We went and walked around the Red Rock desert
between our evenings boxing up her things.
Her places small, her blood-pocked sink, her rings.
Her curtains were drawn tightly, blinds between
shuttered the city’s cathedrals away
where tourists, addicts, neon-angels play,
where we’d invert the difference, night and day.
We’d say that comfort keeps us up for sleep
and yes we did this well. And it was hell.
We burned our heels as we walked through the sand.
Howling like some lost and lonesome vector,
the wind was stark and scentless, like the land.
The rocks were singed and mottled, and the sun
was oven-out. A fist from summer’s hand
squeezed blood from blaze. Inside, this boil began.

About the Poet

Katy Santiff has written poetry in various forms all her life. A fan of meter and rhyme, she loves lines that hypnotize the reader with their sound. She believes in densely-packed poems, preferring them to be mouthfuls when read aloud. A lifelong Marylander, she loves water-side living.  She currently lives in Edgewater, Maryland with her wife. Her Works have been published by Vita Brevis and Spillwords Press.

For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.

3 thoughts

  1. You know how much I appreciate your talent and look forward to reading your poetry. This poem is another perfect example of the power of your imagery. Your ability to draw readers in with your very first words is so seductive, and as we read, your words fill our minds with seeing everything, feeling it, hearing it, smelling it and even tasting it. We feel your joy and we feel your pain. We were touched by the fist of summer’s hand, and we said to you, “This is what poetry is meant to be.” Thank you Katy, for your wonderful poetry and for your friendship. 😊

    1. Walt, I appreciate so much that for brief moments you take the time to read and experience what I’ve written and shared here. Poetry for me is a way to translate all the ugly and the beautiful things we absorb, often in simultaneously. I’m very glad to call you friend too.

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