Megan Kaminski

Megan Kaminski is the author of one book of poetry, Desiring Map (Coconut Books, 2012). She is also the author of six chapbooks of poetry, most recently This Place (Dusie, 2013) and Gemology (LRL Textile Series, 2012). She teaches creative writing and literature at the University of Kansas. http://www.megankaminski.com/

And if Fortune


And if Fortune walked gently
entered our house in bare feet
soft toes pressing tile
summer coolness wet stone
And if she brought gifts
whispers of perfumed fruit overripe
soft collapsible mouths
lispy drafts under doors
coaxing surrender soft palabras
yeasty breathe and brow bubble softly
ocean spray caressing ankles 
decked feet sun-warmed wood
white paint cracked and smooth under foot
gray cats sunning on the porch
arms wrapped rose and violet
And if silver coins pooled parlorside
clinking sweet songs into gambrels
lining garments silken timbre
gamely calling sparrows and gulls
coastward and sea-splendored

Fortune’s children


Fortune’s children follow languid 
beneath waves and lapsing fauna
singing songs slipped silken 
mother left us beneath the sea
cockled and bedecked in finery
sputtering breath upon sand floors
dark hair knotted tangled covering
eyes and ears pulling deeper off-
coast drawn down drawing cold
gold coin jingle paper-lined pockets
skin-lined scarves scarcely keep 

*the children*


I remember wheels spinning red and gold
flashes   cement blocks piled to draw sand
island strands zonas turistas and pulsating
water turquoise white-tipped and the day
she lost me off the point orange flags waving
west me dazzling death below below

*the banker*


My wounds my weeping eyes
the long forelock followed by
bald occasion   favors cast off
easy like overcoats unwanted
misspent coin wasted mettle
if drowning follows darkness
if steel wool softens want
if the wheel turns and turns
raising dust and dung tossing
flowers asunder denting 
my fine hat sullying gloves

*the businessman*


Dear Fortune, be present and propitious
bring sparkle to oars drifting towards 
cooler ports receptive waters  
deck arms in satin jacquard  
merit me prosper and proceed 
beneath the waxing moon
velvet lined tongues to soothe my longings
brick windows watching tender 
body robed in rich purples red leathered
hands wait in wet receipt  

*the heir*


Oh horror Oh longing for a new dinner jacket
Oh lady—each hour I misspent in want
for your favors—Oh I beseech Oh I cry
if only tarry your caresses lapward
if slender fingers cloaked in silver brocade
if trembling lips breathed coin-filled pockets
Oh ascot sullied gray Oh scuffed patent wingtip
Oh limp member Oh me tsk tsk Oh me