Dutch, Swiss, and German, Katie Vogel has lived and worked in Shanghai for almost two years. She is a Bachata lover, fall leaf cruncher, yogi, and poet. With a B.A. in Creative Writing, her work has appeared in Parnassus, Visions, and ASPZ.
Farewell
I leave you softly
a heron listening
water cresting
bony sure knees
home grounding the heart
in morning solace
two feet never rise at once
one lingers on earth’s wet marrow
like the last friend swinging
coolly on a porch rocking chair
comfortable
the scene changes
something is not quite right
a bent cattail discolored
the kingfisher’s calculated dive
absent
new swallows nest and caw
the heron preens again
scratching the unscratchable
feeling
though all is right
perfect even
the sky is also home
and wings cannot wait for winter
~
Repatriation
There is something in silence
which shakes down trees
once planted on dusty lanes
hedged with scooters and noise
and people and life unfurling
the same velocity
waterfalls don’t know themselves
too heavy with breathing
rushing falling breaking and rebirthing
dispersing in every direction
absorbed in sky sun skin of the earth
and any human within five miles
sound rattles out of a cage
never built.
My city is far, far away.
I lay on the grass. If you zoom out,
you would see squares of earth –
sectioned portions you could fork and
eat in one bland bite.
Grass cool, I listen with all my skin:
voices from another time
race along each blade
tickling my cheek,
familiar,
packed with life.