Poetry by Kara J. Valore

                      Alexander Rabb CC



Pride


We were just animals
although we didn’t know it.
Dirty kids in a tin can
that no one tried to tame.
The leaking roof swelled above my bed like a pregnant belly.
In the dark it dripped onto my covers.

We were just scared
swimming with our heads just above 
                                                            the water
                                                            the alcohol
we learned to hold our breath and eventually swim through it.

Sometimes when we surfaced, we found ourselves in the pond behind grandma’s house
with the crickets chirping, the frogs serenading their mates.
In the middle listening to the chaotic chorus, our arms and legs paddled in the murky water.
We eavesdropped and wept.

We were

We 

Then I

At 11 years old, I stayed 
after my older siblings escaped
because she was just a baby, my youngest sister.
Babies don’t know of such things 
like hand-me-downs or made-from-scratch
but they do sense fear more than their mother’s milk

I was just alone
left to roll up my sleeves 
before bathing and feeding her.

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Ramblings On A Wednesday Morning In Lieu Of Writing A Poem


Nobody really smiles anymore except on Facebook

Life is too easy and yet we are all still miserable

Sometimes I see the college kids clumped together 
sipping their Starbucks debating fluently on how we’ve fucked up 
and I think there’s hope after all, 
but then one of them says he doesn’t plan on moving out of his parents’ house 
for another 5 to 10 years. They all nod.

In all their education they will never know 
how taking a drag from a cigarette under a starlit sky can give you answers

The national birth rates are going down and I’m pretty sure 
it’s because we are breaking up with our lovers over text. 
It’s posh now to freeze your eggs, ladies.

We raise our children to hold their heads high 
only for them to stick their nose to an $800 4-inch screen

We are scrubbed so clean that even the word ‘rape’ appears out of a hat like a white rabbit. We pretend to be surprised but we know it will never really go back in the hat...for her.

We are all reading from the same script on how to live 
and researching the same 5 exotic places to vacation 
yet none of us can truly afford to go there

And those willing to improvise get married at Walmart with plastic flowers 
and their makeshift family while we gawk at them and hit the record button.

We don’t even stick our toes in to test the water anymore 
and the only time we hug each other is during a hurricane

It’s like we’re driving in a blizzard with the snow pelting the car 
not knowing if we will come out of it on the other side 
or smash into a tree

There’s only one certainty: those who can’t identify 
a John Wayne movie get deported.

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In addition to being a poet, Kara is a Therapeutic Emotional Support Teacher and mother of three children.  Her poetry has appeared in GrassLimb, Skinny Poetry Journal, Red Rose Review, Reclaiming Our Voices Anthology, and Bards Against Hunger Pennsylvania Anthology.  Her previous work has placed in the Writer’s Eye Competition, various Pennsylvania Poetry Society Prize Anthologies and various YorkFest Literary Competitions. 

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