Poetry

Poem Of The Week | ‘Almost’ By Christine Kannapel

By Christine Kannapel

Almost

By Christine Kannapel

A risk of lightening today
so there won’t be any swimming.
Pool cover stays pulled and I am
seated on a floral print couch
watching the kitchen’s florescent light
shadows—my mom and aunt
somewhere in there. They’ll be right back.
‘Do you like jokes?’
His belly’s a balloon and his glasses
are magnifying orbs. ‘I have some in here,’
his office, a stale room with a window.
He slips a Chinese finger trap onto my indexes.
It’s scratchy—door shuts, ‘stand by the desk,’
by the window. I see spears of light through clouds,
maybe I will swim after all today. 

Due to an increase in submissions we are now closed for new submissions for the Poem of the week, Unbound and New Voices section of the website. We will still accepting interview, essay and article proposals. Check out the website for future updates.

Photo by Amy Shamblen on Unsplash

Christine Kannapel 1 posts 0 comments

Christine Kannapel is a recent graduate from University College Cork’s Creative Writing M.A. program. She received her B.A. in English from the University of Utah. Christine’s fiction serial, One Summer in Cork, was featured in the Evening Echo this past summer. Her poems “On the Edge” and “The Fall” were respectively semi-finalist and finalist for Atlanta Review’s 2019 Dan Veach Prize for Young Poets. Her creative work has most recently appeared in The Quarryman and Provo’s Poem Ball Machine. She is currently living in Salt Lake City, Utah, USA.