Poetry by Lee Kiblinger

Aged

But you have kept the good wine until now- John 2:10

It is taking years for the

furrowed brow of this can’t be,

to ease into

its full-bodied now,

the marvel of how

can this be,

when either and or,

twist side to side

for what is just,

for that turn right,

those slow sips

from the dregs

of reason,

when truth heartens

the fermented season—

before life’s mercy

spews from the left

and the weight

of my head

spins dizzy round

by what is found

in the somehow—

when far is near,

first is last,

fire is cloud,

god is man;

before it all began

and mysteries, like me,

ask to age,

to mature the now—

drunk from the barrel

of a wondrous

how.

Melting Point

He tarried at the hem

of it all melting

back hunched beneath

the weight of his wondering

if those leavened flakes

would forever be falling—

he sits fixed at the slit

eyes in their twitching

broken body bent

in the ballast of waiting

limp muscles drained

in the dry desert dawning

til awakened again

by the spill of a breading

after the midnight sweats

still soaked his bedding—

his silence listened

to drops of lost blessing

drowned by the thuds

of his own thoughts grumbling

of hands that tired

in the gleaning and rubbing;

but as morning retreated

with another sun’s waxing

his stomached need

stretched to the opening

and with rainy eyes

he gaped again gazing

at the provision gifted,

yet grieved by the waning—

for doubt is still fed

during a midday melting

though goodness is given

each plentiful morning.

Lee Kiblinger is a teacher and late blooming poet from Tyler, Texas, where she spends her time laughing with three teenagers, playing mahjong, grading essays, and enjoying poems with Rabbit Room poets. Her work can be found in Calla Press, Heart of Flesh, Solum Journal, Ekstasis, The Way Back to Ourselves, Clayjar Review and others. You can read more of her poetry at www.ripplesoflaughter.com.