Window with shutters in the woods

Three Poems by Katrinka Moore 11th Annual Contest in Poetry Semifinalist

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When I was a child
I slept in a room
whose windows opened onto woods
Dawn birds darted    
in sunglow between
trees     calling     calling      

Heat lightning on the horizon
rain never falls

We set out early    decamp
slip away      desert    
ride hard     ford a river    
unbridle the horses    who
graze      small   slow   steps

Like any animal I live
with my own need     and
that of others     how
they rub together
your hunger     mine




The saga’s recast     each
unfolding day

Decrees declared     withdrawn
New edicts shift the ground

beneath us     Hiatus
turns to disarray

Sparseness     spareness
scaling back     Unpeopled

houses     loss after loss
Disturbances that thrive

within catastrophe     All
angles     sharp points    

utterly silent     poised
to strike




Told in sweeping tones     as if viewed
from the stars

Litany of conflicts     victories     dominion
Schemes that yield the unforeseen

Foreboding gleams     in pauses     between

As in many stories     a hero
reaches too far

gains power     loses
the way    

Endless     hungry     rushing

Sources of darkness     stalk
the margins


Gathers the drift of life     constellations
of moments     sensations

Unravels this-then-that     knits
reflection     reverie

Sings of all being     breathtaking
in the unmaking




Katrinka MooreKatrinka Moore is the author of three booksWayfarers, Numa: An Epic Poem with Photo Collages, and Thief—that include her artwork alongside her poems. Her chapbook This is Not a Story, won the New Women’s Voices Prize.

Read four poems by Katrinka Moore previously appearing in

Header image by Anja, courtesy Pixabay. Photo of Katrinka Moore by Michael Lawrence. is the world’s first online journal of place, publishing a rich mix of literature, artwork, case studies, and more since 1997.