July 24, 2019

Abigail Kipp: Getting to the Heart

Abigail Kipp: Getting to the Heart

Favorite Things  

A few of my favorite things fill my head  
Sunlight through green leaves dancing in the dark  
Rap songs on the radio ignoring what is said  
Just moving along down roads lost in the mark  
Watching dancers soar wishing I was too  
Silver rain on bare skin cool wet slides down  
The sound of white snow falling in queue  
Black skirts a little too short peaceful small town  
And the way you looked at me like I looked
At you lost in innocence the before  
The fall when we were both completely hooked  
Before we started cold trench and ash war  
Moment of love I am doomed to repeat  
With everyone that comes next like useless meat.  


Two languages (free form) 

Two languages 
And I can’t find the words 
Crawling in my mouth 
Screaming to be free 

Twenty-six letters 
And I can’t locate 
The syllables 
That read  
How you let go. 

How do I write 
When poems are all a void 
A ship in disease 
Brown planks falling 
Into grey water. 

How do I say 
I love you 
When I only  
Have black swirls 
On white ivory. 

Twenty-six letters 
Don’t leave 
Don’t match 
Two languages 
And silence 
Is my relief 



Truth a silver lock 
Branching over skin 
A web of words  
Seeping into skin 
Through eggshell bone 
Dragging me below 
Tidal waves. 
A metallic roadmap 
Of ignored fact. 
Malformed metal  
Screaming tendrils 
Deeply rooted 
And creeping down my throat 
Losing all 
To silver truth. 



If you have glue
I have tape 
We will take these ragged pieces 
And make something new. 

I would like a cube 
A solid little box 
To hide stuff away in 
Paint it blue 
Make it a chest 
A private thing 
A keep sake just for me 
Memories to seal away 
To smile at one day. 

For you 
We could make 
An orb to play with
Or a diamond to hoard. 

We will bend 
And scrap 
And sculpt 
New shapes 
New colors 
New ways to see  
Till they are just 
How we want them to be 
These tiny broken hearts 
Of ours 
All shiny and new. 



Sex is a currency  

I don’t know the exchange rate for. 

Green tentacles 

Wrap around my heart 

Like pale worms 

Burrowing through 

Discarded meet. 

Crushing lungs 

Like Coke cans 

In a child’s game 

Making love to a one night stand 

The wall  

Between sex and more 

Is a hologram 

More easily passed through 

Than sunlight  

But to them 

A giant stone statue 

Seen from miles away 

A guardian 

With steel sword 

To protect cowards.  


Blue Ribs 

Can I curl up in you? 

Behind your blues 

Deep in the center 

Surrounded by the 

Engravings of what once was 

You seem so inviting 

A gentle hand 

And maybe when 

I am a child 

Once again 

Inside of your humanity 

I will be an artist again. 


Abigail Kipp is a student at Texas State University outside of Austin. She is entering her final year of study. She started writing when she was eight. She got her undergraduate degree in Creative Writing at New Mexico State University. She has been published in Kairos, Edify and more.

About theJack B. Rochester

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *