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Two Poems by Matthew Kelsey


The Obit Arrives

First the earth turned 

very cold. The snow rose

from the ground. The shore

locked its shock of algae 

up in ice. The geese 

fleeced us, morphed

into wind chimes,

then made a sick

music of the air. The light

turned green. All of it. All of it

wavering madly. I called

my mother’s name and the winds

strained harder. She rose

with the snow. Nobody knew

why I found it so moving 

mostly because 

nobody knew. The light 

was all mine, emphasis 

on was, the mine

not mine, Sisyphean

in all its pronounal 

vow. In truth, the light 

was hers, was gone. 

I have tried to tell 

the weather 

from the words

and have failed. 

It happened,

others have told me,

otherwise.

 


New Normal, Illinois

We are driving to an orchard! The blue dawn throws 

a glaze on the trees! Windfall falls! Coins from last night’s rain 

light up the grass! The past and present 

fuse in a single ride! There is a virus afoot 

that put my father to pasture! Just look 

at this weather! Time insists and the sunlight 

glistens! It’s been months since I saw a tree 

more than a mile from my home! Here in the car 

no one agrees on how to feel, on what to do 

about how we feel, on whether or not 

we should head straight for the pumpkins! 

The haze is descending upon the road but the light

cuts through it! What is the word for waking up and powering down

at the very same time! What good is a word or a love

when a virus eats through it! Our fender chews 

through miles of patient fog! Our driver’s hands 

are mottled like apples oxygen kisses! They are beautiful! 

The people in the car are rich with love! 

What can’t we do together! What can’t we do 

together! Just look at this gorgeous weather! 

 

 


Matthew Kelsey’s poems have appeared in Copper Nickel, Colorado Review, Poetry Northwest, and elsewhere. He has received scholarships from the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference and the Sewanee Writers’ Conference, a teaching fellowship from the Kenyon Review Young Writers Program, and an Idyllwild Arts Writers Week Fellowship. 



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