Poetry by Catherine Zickgraf

 

Image / MART PRODUCTION

Natives

My kids mountaineer the terrain of my house.

They alpine two by two the fifteen steps to their rooms 

then rappel so fast I worry.  

Must be just recently I carried one of them up the stairs

to lay him down for his nursery nap.

But eventually each son learned to throw himself 

over the crib rail and jump.

They’ve been zip-lining around the house ever since.

While Adults Talked after Church

I would hide in the bushes,

finding forts behind untouched underbrush.

For below the boughs that touched the ground

I’d weave my way in the dirt—

branches scratching dress and tights 

and patent leather shoes. 

I was always running from adults,

sometimes scaling trees spiraled with rings

to blend where the little things live.

I learned to hide from the eye like them.    © Catherine Zickgraf

Catherine Zickgraf

Two lifetimes ago, Catherine performed her poetry in Madrid. Now her main jobs are to write and hang out with her family. You can find her work in Pank, Deep Water Literary Journal, and 7th-Circle Pyrite. Her chapbook, Soul Full of Eye, is published through Kelsay Books. Find her socially in the Bluesky and watch/read more at www.caththegreat.blogspot.com.

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