3 Poems by Ashley Kunsa

Standing in the Garden of Myself Where My Lover Misplaced a Rusting Trowel

sweet nectar of firebush plumbing the fraudulent

____________________________________this argument from broken deities

__________________does it matter?


________________________as light unspools across the thorax of


_____course you don’t know me

_________________________________________________in this winter-colored dress, my wine-streaked cheeks, their hasty bloom

_____________________a zebra longwing in flight against

__________________________________________to the right, please, a sky constellating


the words I have tried to say but have not



_______what I have found is  ___________________________________almost—a consolation

______________thyme creeps in delicate ropes over the

___________________________________nothing worth writing about home


_______the marsh of desire

____________________________she said, Tomorrow, my dear, perhaps we shall try again


home as a concept as much as a place as much as

pours like velvet from mouth to ear

_________________________________________________thinking about the ones who stray

____________________________corrupted by benign neglect

_____________________irrespective of pine, or daffodil, or

____________or stay

_________________________________________still lost, into the peripheral moments

______________into the hours___________________________________waxes rhapsodic


______________and there’s that old ache, the one with its wings pinned under my breast

____________________________________this high-ceilinged epiphany


____________________________and how sometimes, aren’t they the same?

glass this thing that separates two bodies finally


and wanes___________________________________looking for


_______either fullness, or in supplication to the object itself


______________exquisite specimen of yearning, flash-frozen at the moment of its



________________________________________________a seeking

________________________________________________a crocus gulping into life


Signs Seen Driving Past a Baptist Church in Rural PA

Feed the hungry
Clothe the naked
Visit the sick
Build the wall


See him, a geologist molding
ear to earth/ what shudders
through the caverns of her
just ballooning shape/ his hands
conjuring tremble-breath