Laurie Kolp (2 poems)
Running Shoes
On early summer mornings,
the struggle becomes
a subtle nudge.
To stretch, you reach
down and touch me
briefly—what a tease.
If you let me, I can run
like Usain Bolt, run
like Forrest Gump, run
across America without
falling apart. Run
as if my life depended on it,
which it does.
No cracks or potholes
trip me when you let me run
with you. I would not want
to rub a blister on your heel
or stink your duffel bag
just because you splash
sludge all over me. I would
lose my sole, and you would
have to start all over
with someone else.
Someone who does not
know you like I do, has not
molded you a runner from life.
Alien Experience
When the satellite lands, a moon shadow
looms from under my low sagging breasts.
I offer up my arms to hairy pits, show
the satellite as it lands. A moon shadow
spills on reptilian-like skin, an alien
inks Mars over blue varicose veins.
When the satellite lands, a moon shadow
looms underneath a low shaggy beast.
Laurie Kolp’s poems have appeared in the Southern Poetry Anthology VIII: Texas, Stirring, Whale Road Review, Pith, Rust + Moth, and more. Her poetry books include the full-length Upon the Blue Couch and chapbook Hello, It's Your Mother. An avid runner and lover of nature, Laurie lives in Southeast Texas with her husband, three children, and two dogs.