Kathryn Petruccelli – poet, writer, teacher, performer

  • Self-Portrait with Ecstatic Apocalypse

    with a line by Ellen Bass

    In water, my body remembers—
    a boat cutting its way

    through blue-green sea, dolphins riding
    the wake, breath short,

    joy caught in the drawer of my throat.
    Ocean: ultimatum.

    Ocean: mirror.
    At a beach, where from both sides

    children shriek, dive into salted waves while I remain
    without voice for the moment at hand.

    It’s easy to discount how light shudders
    before crests show themselves.

    In the bathtub—even here, a rush from the source,
    god we’ve been waiting for, waters rising

    like good bread, like a world thirsty
    for its origins, something displaced,

    limbs pushing against soft force,
    I blink and find darkness of beginnings.

    You, forever slipping through my fingers—ocean:
    body greater than ours.

    Ocean: twisting away, jilted lover.
    Longing as inevitable end—

    swallowed by rhythmic lapping, rooting
    among bottom dwellers, eyes protrude

    from sediment, see our past-future loop
    made whole, rocked by embryonic symphony.

    I don’t blame you for the gills we gave up,
    I only want to put out this fire.

    published in May by Rogue Agent.

    Take a WORKSHOP from me! You’re invited: Claire Wahmanholm, guest poet, June 8, 2025. current theme: “The Rules of the Game: Playing with Form”

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