Poetry by Kristin Van Tassel
we give you lamp
light that we might
see you transparent
sea cucumber in sheer
pink open blossom 2
miles deep—& see
you yeti crab, pincer
thin arms frost furred,
or you blind lobster,
needle nosed pliers
in open jaw—& you,
comb jelly, trailing
translucent tulle
veins glowing LED
cool, sliding starless
sky 4.5 miles below
our surface—so
quiet, this cold
Kristin Van Tassel lives and teaches in rural Central Kansas. She writes essays and poetry about place, travel, and teaching. Her work has appeared in World Hum, Wanderlust, Whale Road Review, The Land Report, About Place, Porcupine Review, and Ecotone.
