Knocking – Poem by Katy Santiff

Green wheat Field with Cypress – Vincent van Gogh

Poetry by Katy Santiff

Nowhere near the handle, but somewhere on
the pan–we had been two kids in Maryland:
and we splayed in the crook of that sprawling land,
kissed the grassy palm of its open hand,
ran through its greening fingered span
and up upon those earthen curls a leafen fan
was uttered–rush and over wooden crawl and fodder lush
for me, wilding child, of wood and wind and sand.
Then, when the tide dropped ten again, we (wild
tongued and wondered) would pull the Sealback North
and then around the rocks, wave-thundered.
Along her knees (her granite bend) the
murk and nest still slumbered. Bare-boned the rest
and bay-sun drenched–two small heat spots on an
ancient bench–our knocking days were numbered.


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 mouthful when read aloud.  A lifelong Marylander, she loves waterside living.  She currently resides in Edgewater, Maryland.  Her works have been published in Vita Brevis, Spillwords Press, and (now) Uppagus Magazine.

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