Posts by Kat Heatherington
avoidance
my hands are hardening as my heart softens. i try to hurry the process and things tear. blisters rise and sting. i bruise too easily, fall too fast. the massive cottonwoods humble and reduce me. i get small, laying on the patio, hurtling through space beneath a sky massed with leaves flecked with stars. the…
Read Moreneeds
to say, you are meeting my needs is also to say, i have needs and today, you fill them. it is also to say, i need you. dangerous ground, the breakwater, the undertow land pulling out to sea. i need you also means, i need for you to need me. and if not, then what?…
Read Morewet as rain
spring runs down from the mountains in leaping rivulets of muddy water, the red earth dark as blood with running. flowers fountain down behind the springing water, tumbling in wild falls of color. at the base of the mountains, collecting in pools and leafy groves, summer gathers and begins her long silken ascent, fingering each…
Read Moreblooming
the world is made of wildflowers and you and i bloom in it. or maybe i am made of wildflowers and you bloom in me. or it’s the sun, and we lay open, exposed and vulnerable, hearts beating, breath drawn in waiting to bloom.
Read Morethe well in you
your new lover is conversational in bed, doesn’t separate a space of loving from a space of daily living. you’re intrigued; the idea merits exploration. she’s tentative, her life is busy and different, and neither of you are sure what she wants. meanwhile i have taken the last step backwards off a similar cliff, the…
Read Morebetween the cracks
once on impulse, i planted a hollyhock seed in a crack between flagstones near the spigot, where the swamp cooler dripped erratically in the summer. the first spring, it put up four small sturdy leaves, and i watered it whenever i remembered. that winter came new love and large changes, and what with it all,…
Read Moreletter home
garden catalog came today. we planted peas this week in the windy sunshine, kale & carrots. put in the spring poultry order– 47 chickens and 20 heritage turkeys, lean & dark & juicy, shipped in a raucous box next week. evenings are cold, still, and the wind is high. the weather service says sunshine, but…
Read Morewildflower
on good days, i move fast. faster than some men are ready for. but you’re so delicate, they say, such a lovely wildflower. as wise in the ways of this world as any wildflower, more engaged with pollen than with politics. as hardy as delicate, rooted and propagating. my season’s not over so fast as…
Read MoreGrandfather’s Farm: A Eulogy
I should have asked you to teach me how to sharpen a shovel, change the oil in my car, milk a cow, grow buckwheat. Instead we fought, all down the years, till I moved far away and let distance do my talking. Only since I’ve proved myself, come into my own on our small farm,…
Read Morei put down roots
i put down roots as easy as breathing. fine filaments tangling, binding up the soil wherever i stop. i have roots left in houses, towns, ecologies i’ve left behind– and some in places i’ve never been, borne there like potted plants by the people i’m rooted to. wings are my challenge. always i’m reaching out…
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