Kaitlyn Park Writes

Lost Road

The GPS is not working
because we are too far removed
from the rest of the world,
and the baby is crying

We don't even have a baby, I'm
talking about myself, I guess,
because I remember the sound
of my whine and now pity you

We drove bass-ackwards all over
and never found or destination,
finally seeing the welcome sight
of a few dotting lights, and I never
rejoiced at the sight of a Denny's
so much in all my life.

Good Morning Baby

I hear the bed creaking, which
tells me you're awake, even when
you aren't here

I go sniffing for you in the middle
of the night, reaching and not finding
but occasionally you are there

That's a welcome moment in my life
and I don't want to miss those times,
want to collect them and pile them up

Comforts in a far corner of the room
for the huddle up in.

Snorrible

I know, I know, on the outside
I look like a ballerina.
The doctor tells me I'm too small.

I should gain some weight, but
the pounds of ice cream don't seem
to help.  I'm sure it will catch up.

In spite of my petite being, you
should hear me snoring.  I recorded
it once, like the secret weapon, like
the late-night sneak attack.

Kaitlyn Park