Peace Be Within Your Walls
and quietness within your towers.
My house has five gables, pitched rooflines,
angled rooms, and balconies,
front and back gardens enclosed,
rocked with river stone
while a dry streambed drains the drench
off shingles in a storm.
Abstract sculptures mirror the cross gables.
This, a thirty year effort that parallels
the fits and starts to get to where
each morning I read
the appointed psalms, pray for my sisters,
and write this song.
I Am Afraid of Your Judgments
As soon as vibrant green is upon
the euonymus hedge—
planted as a freeform line
of bushes along the sidewalk,
each to maintain its shape
unlike hedges in Victorian
Cape May I admired, but
did not want a life keeping
offshoots within borders—
subtle criticism begins to gnaw.
What in bustle of a winter season
does not prick, in late spring
finds its way into crevices
as the inevitable weed,
even in a garden of stone.
They asked, and quails appeared,
and he satisfied them with bread from heaven.
On a day when I asked someone to lunch,
all I got was a displaced rabbit hopping
from car to car in the parking lot.
He'd learned the way of pigeons and squirrels,
begging when I left with a sackful of bread
and a mind to share with one in the desert
like Moses kept just outside the promised land,
wandering where no one speaks his language
or honors the customs of his ways.
Kyle Laws’ recent collections include This Town with Jared Smith (Liquid Light Press, 2017); So Bright to Blind (Five Oaks Press, 2015); Wildwood (Lummox Press, 2014); My Visions Are As Real As Your Movies, Joan of Arc Says to Rudolph Valentino (Dancing Girl Press, 2013); and George Sand’s Haiti (co-winner of Poetry West’s 2012 award).
With six nominations for a Pushcart Prize, her poems and essays have appeared in magazines and anthologies in the U.S., U.K., and Canada. She comes from the tradition of contemplative prayer, and is the editor and publisher of Casa de Cinco Hermanas Press.