Kimberly L. Becker, Poet


In the Purple and Blue of It

Walking the property
In the late afternoon
In the purple and blue of it
The stand of pines
Fairytale deepness
Past the reservoir
Crunching hulls of black walnuts
This is sacred ground
My eyes devour the view
That I like to claim as mine
But know it’s not, despite the deed
When I return to the anxiety
Of the city
I will long for this land
As a lover for the body of the beloved
I will recall its voice
The trickle of creek
       call of hawks
       rain as it comes up the valley
I have seen mesas
Great red tables
Altars for sacrifice
But it is these mountains
I hold against the bruise of my heart
The purple and blue 
Of their mothering forms

Purple       and       blue
 -- Words Facing East (WordTech Editions, 2011)

Grief Kit
All night fox barked    My dog on red alert
Morning: two kits on road    show those barks were grief
After calling them to cross   divide of highway
she mourned their lack of passage    and instead their passing
Cry for fox, for Gulf,    for body of the world
This ink can undo nothing    Cannot undivide before and after
Can only pave a few lines    Can only post a meager sign:
Your loss is smaller     than the world's
Kits' eyes closed at death    as if in birth
give rise      to our harsh barks
of grace      and grief
The Dividings (WordTech Editions, 2014) 

You came back East,
declared the leaves a disappointment.
I concurred, apologizing like a guide
for the underwhelming show.
But just this morning
the wet and mottled motley
of the maple reminded me
of what I should have known.
The leaves averred that change is hard:
Climate conspires
to make it difficult to die.
Filled with chlorophyll
we wait for chill that never comes
or comes too late for us to peak
in the orange, red, yellows that you seek.
--The Dividings (WordTech Editions, 2014)