Poetry by Katy Santiff
If I, in my
self-review, recoup one coup too much for
you–I won’t fault you your auf wiedersehen,
But what I meant to say to you: that I’ve
walked to the edge of your
I’m buckling beside your brook, you bathing
inside, where mysteries keep and
from the grasp of gods, while blood-angels spied
on us, a mass of tangle, and they cried.
A seedling springs, is feeding, where you died.
I’ve already extracted from me these pounds of
these things that years will hemorrhage: love and loss.
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