Milk Fog

Kathleen Kilcup

Milk Fog

Milk fog shapes out the window,
giving up the faint, wet
morning after uncoupling.
The spine’s a figure. How it
twists, a cord of myself
knotted under. This white,
misting near the broad pine
and in the attic of myself.
His fingers knocking loose
the sturdy brackets of sense
in a few swift seconds.
Dark, dark. A cave
I crumple around, present
and remote, a fact like any other,
empty to air.

KATHLEEN KILCUP’s first chapbook, Rough Hymns, was published in 2019 by Finishing Line Press. Her essays and poems have appeared in Tin House (online), Salon, Connotation Press, Pretty Owl, Boston Poetry Magazine, The Watershed Review, Bird’s  Thumb, and elsewhere. She lives and works in Oklahoma City with her husband and cat.