Kimberly Vargas Agnese

Hosea


I begin today thinking about past loves,

words falling from the lips of men,

how inevitable it was for my hair to turn grey in the smoldering of yesterday’s Valentine

ashes falling from once pink lips, pooling amongst wine goblets full of salt
there are many who promise to walk through fire

only one who ever truly does

grapes fall amongst demitasse nettles as his singed cuff brushes chaff out of my hair 

I bathe in white clover blossoms,

bird song  ripples through my comb until my heart learns to giggle 

and ashes ripen into alabaster 

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Published by Kimberly Vargas Agnese

My name is Kimberly Vargas Agnese, though I've previously written as Kae Bucher. I was born in the Florida Keys, but grew up in the Bay Area before migrating south to the San Joaquin Valley. As I ride barefoot around Fresno, I consider the paths I've chosen and the crossroads where our country seems to have perched itself. Thanks to my Romani ancestry, many people groups reside within me and my poetry tends to reflect this. I love welcoming the sunrise with my Native American flute. I've been rumored to juggle while teaching students how to write. And if you can't find me, I'm probably hanging out with Jesus listening to parables.

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