Two Poems by Olivia J. Kiers

Campfire: Ossipee, NH

Below straight-shot
pines, the fire pit
shadow waits agape.
Stone teeth encircle
charcoal toothpaste,
saying ah—a black
that startles. It is

almost artificial,
Vantablack’s trick
of flipping every card
an ace of spades—
unreal, wide-eyed,
large-dot dilated pupil
without a catch-light
akin to nothing else

nocturnal. Let’s burn it
with orange and blue-hot
flames. Acute treetops
will leap and poke
into a sky drooling out
milk-blue starlight,
mouthing the pale oh
of a shocked and
enormous moon.

Paper Clip

Plastic. White. Isosceles.
Mid-flight, I cherish you
with a fingertip, trace your wing.
You remind me of a crisp & lucky paper crane.
Your elegance sits placid, folds
flocks of pages dutifully down
to withstand gusts of wind.


Raised on a vineyard in rural Virginia, Olivia J. Kiers is a poet, artist, and museum professional now based in Worcester, MA. She is a poetry co-editor for Crack the Spine Literary Magazine. Her writing has appeared most recently in Soliloquies AnthologyRune Bear, and Tilde. You can find her on Instagram at @oliviakiers