Two Poems

Kathleen Hellen

Fifty gypsies come with care instructions

First, the stem
cut slantwise through the vein
Thorn and petal guards remove, then
powders to dissolve into a bluing
drunk from bottom until leaves detach
A vase. Arrange for showing. Display
for succor when occasions are the same
The same hint of blight
in tubes as green as envy me
the music that we danced to
We give as we are used
The second cut is harder

***

Sequined Cargo

Their dogwood blossoms barking
episodes of sequins, manic beads
designed to find me
among racks
of slightly used

Sweaters slighted for the newer
dresses left for longer days
jackets caught up in their zippers—
I left

the comfort of my sweats
stepped into a universe expanding
when I cinched the ribbons at the ankles. Seams aligned
ideas sprouted green and green as Lorca's, rhymes
metaphors were speaking as I strode into the scenes as long as
Kerouac on speed. Into fictions as prolific as a cup of tea on Proust
Into romances requited. Into fictions fit as poems
I carried plots I had not ventured when

consigned, all I had were ordinary notions

Kathleen Hellen's work has appeared in Barrow Street; Bryant Literary Review; Cortland Review; Hollins Critic; Natural Bridge; Nimrod; Prairie Schooner; Runes; Southern Poetry Review, among others. Awards include the Washington Square Review, James Still and Thomas Merton poetry prizes, as well as individual artist grants from the state and the city. She serves as an editor for the Baltimore Review.

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