Sarah Mackey Kirby

The Marsh Grass Meets the Blues

 

I’d like to hear I love you today,

if you don’t mind. The years back,

early summer kind.

Not the one that gets caught up

in our morning commute,

patched up like wooden

fence posts, weathered from storms

that chiseled off the stain.

 

Time does that, I reckon.

Throws humdrum Tuesday fog

into lives once composed of dreams.

I want that I love you that takes

some courage. A little grit

to get the words out.

Like back when saying it

meant risking something.

Words that sound like a blues guitar

that come without assurance,

amplifying a salt air evening.

Passion that blares from the

speakers of a sand-laced beater truck.

 

I wish I could go back to last night.

Not shaken my head at all your singing,

those flat notes breaking up the peace.

If only when you’d drummed

the steering wheel, I would have played

the air sax. And with windows down,

sung with you. Sung with you

alongside the marsh grass herons

loud against the breeze.

 

 

Sarah Mackey Kirby was born and raised among fat bumble bees and redbud trees in Louisville, Kentucky. She taught middle and high school social studies, which brought her incredible joy, laughs, and daily facepalms. Her poems appear in Chiron Review, Hobo Camp Review, ONE ART, Ploughshares, Third Wednesday Magazine, and elsewhere. She's the author of the poetry collection, The Taste of Your Music (Impspired, 2021) She loves to cook, dig in garden dirt, and root for University of Louisville basketball. Find Sarah's work at https://smkirby.com/