


Everyday Omens is NOW SHIPPING from Sheila-Na-Gig Editions
Buy the book:
https://sheilanagigblog.com/shop-sheila-na-gig-editions/kris_whorton_omens/
Attend the Zoom reading: Thursday, April 23, 7:00 pm (EST)
REGISTER FOR THE KRIS WHORTON EVENT
Everyday Omens
Five golden planets and the moon.
A silver moon full against indigo
slipping to ultramarine as dawn softens the sky.
A scatter of white feathers in the road.
Post-It notes a swirl of fallen leaves
across my desk.
A faint scar around my middle finger,
first knuckle. The fingertip skin once nearly flayed.
The buff and black stripes of a chipmunk’s bushy tail
left on a rock in my yard by a hawk.
A caginess when I see texts or voicemails, just before
I open or listen and wonder what I’ve done
or haven’t done.
Tired white sheets on an unmade bed. Fat
pillows flattened.
The natural bend of a red bud branch after the leaves
have turned yellow and fallen off.
A fox’s skull, mostly clean, atop the dirt as though dropped
like a disregarded sock or careless comment.
My coop, invaded by a masked prowler.
Three of my hens dead, but not eaten.
Abandoned brown oak leaves,
potato cracklins on the forest floor.
Cold crisp dusk falls on my yard. The breeze bites,
coaxed last leaves from the sunbright yellow maple.