Kevin Rabas
4 Poems
Chalked Walk
When e was little
we’d draw
with chalk
on the walk, wonder
will anyone pause
and look, see
inside e’s mind, written
in color on the ground
we where we stand,
walk, stop.
The Mouth
The mouth knows
its work,
to move
until there is nothing
left to swallow, like
a cave
no one returns
from, like a rock
tossed into water
that settles
to the
bottom.
[stop]
His wife says,
“Stop using names
when you see people. You always
get them wrong.” Tim
hit his head last winter,
hasn’t been right since.
[winter]
That afternoon, it was as if
someone left the backdoor open,
and the winter wind blew in,
shriveling what was left
of what was green
or still held color, red
or yellow, all gone.
Past Poet Laureate of Kansas (2017-2019) Kevin Rabas teaches at Emporia State University, where he leads the poetry and playwriting tracks and chairs the Department of English, Modern Languages, and Journalism. He has twelve other books, including Lisa’s Flying Electric Piano, a Kansas Notable Book and Nelson Poetry Book Award winner. He is the recipient of the Emporia State President’s and Liberal Arts & Sciences Awards for Research and Creativity, and he is the winner of the Langston Hughes Award for Poetry.