top of page

Look at This Little Life - Kait Quinn

Every day is the same.

Every day sunlight


and the cat's hoarse pleas

spill through


the crack beneath the bedroom

door, pool citrine on wooden


floor. Look at this little carnivore, his irises

every shade of rainforest,


papier-mâchéd papyrus, pupils

eager and dilated, belly shaved


from the ultrasound,

the mass in his stomach ticking.


Every day

the espresso beans riff


with the grinder, bass rumble

of extraction, the steamer's hushed copper


percussion. Look at this little life:

these blankets crocheted with fleece


and love, these little jars of

hyaluronic and glycolic acids,


nightly rituals bottled in amber.

Every day I light one


of my twelve candles.

Every day I choose decaf.


Every day the dog is just as happy

to see me as he was the day before, hour


before, just three minutes before.

Every day the maple


is right where I left it.

Come mid-October, she will trade


her emeralds for golden

tourmaline, still stand


the same sage and hyssop

guardian I left her as last night.

 

Kait Quinn (she/her) was born with salt in her wounds. She flushes the sting of living by writing poetry. Her work has appeared in Reed Magazine, Watershed Review, Chestnut Review, and elsewhere. She received first place in the League of MN Poets’ 2022 John Calvin Rezmerski Memorial Grand Prize. She enjoys repetition, coffee shops, and vegan breakfast foods. Kait lives in Minneapolis with her partner, their regal cat, and their very polite Aussie mix. Find her at kaitquinn.com.

77 views

Recent Posts

See All

Commentaires


bottom of page