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.