Poems
CREATIVES- Dasha Kelly (c) 2020
The fathers have been wrong
Neither wits nor years have
been wasted
Loosely spent, perhaps. Scattered
and prayed over
Rejoice the harvest
Turns out, the mothers
were right about rainy days, though
About positioning barrels under the sky
About dreams plummeting and evaporating
Curse the drought
Never mind the second cousins, supervisors
In-laws, pew mates, classmates, the warm-hearted ex
Unconvinced and unimpressed
Ever- concerned, under the breath
Condescension is a learned language, ill-fitted
for the expanse of their genuine affections
Cherish the village
Gather the creatives, muscles taut
from bending humanity into
open windows and carpet rides
Harness our wattage of will
Carrying narratives from the perimeter
into conversation centers
We vibrate with imagination
With abandon, reverence and
arduous hope
Honor our breath
WONDER - Dasha Kelly (c) 2020
You’ve cradled a
miracle in your arms
Warm and glowing
Held a star against your chest
You’ve wished upon the dimples,
freckles and wild tangle of curls
A million times today
Gazed into infinity
Small eyes, wide with wonder
You’ve done nothing but
wish and wonder
How bright?
How big?
How will you
harness a star?
You are everything in these moments
Holding infinity and
yourself
You are galaxy and, already,
everything you’ll need
to fill our sky with starlight
TILT - Dasha Kelly (c) 2019
Over his shoulder
the wall frame interrupts
Politely, at first
Urging my attention
Urgently, the more I ignore
its leaning angle
Behind his back
the framed painting invades
conversation
about the kids, about work, about
news stories, about consuming less dairy
Outside of his knowing
our framed art hangs at a tilt
Absorbing the details for pickups, the new coworker’s name, fun facts about oat milk
Taunting me to set its angles straight
LIFE IN MOTION - Dasha Kelly (c) 2019
I see you
Trying to snip yourself
Free from the clash of fabric patterns
Outsize the outline of your fierce
and stunning soul
Coast be not ocean
Edge be not your end
I smell the salt water in your conversation
A slow leak of truth from the corners of your grin
I see you
Fumbling to wrap yourself
In the wind
But I know a costume
When I see one
You carve your journey through fire
Blaze ash compacting in your chest
Footsteps forged into scorched Earth rising like breaths of sage
Glancing backwards will always be an inclination
Forward is your instinct
I see you
Hobbling together a truth of your own
Reconsidering the broken pieces
Polishing the gemstones in your scars
You are incomplete and you are the universe
You are an ever evolution
Ever evolution
You.
Are.
INVENTORY - Dasha Kelly (c) 2016
What has fallen behind the cupboard
Actual things, folded between the drawer
and its casing Hinges and seams of your surroundings
snagged against this detritus of your life
Episodes of your existence sloughed to the floorboards
Archiving time in layers of dust, crumbs, pen caps, a
dryer sheet, AA battery, pine needles and –without
a doubt—a penny
You had gasped
That one time
Forced behind the fridge
Its hidden spectacle of filth and toppled things
Gasped
Leave the cupboard be
Menus slipped beneath the dresser tracks, phone
numbers and reminders swallowed into the walls
All you have lost is an unfathomable metric
Needless to add things already
forgotten
BITTER - Dasha Kelly (c) 2015
Forgiveness hangs flimsy between you
and the raw truth you’ve come to know:
Resentments do come home to roost, to peck, to force you
into navigating fatherhood from your knees. There are
explosives undetonated on your tongue, tasting
like guilt, goddamn and gunpowder all swirled together
You teach yourself to swallow, to repent, to deny the
flames licking from your chest. Arms crossed, she bids you a bitter winter
Fiction
Articles & Essays
DashNettes