A Poem by Kate Fetherston

Kate Fetherston

Kate Fetherston

Kate Fetherston is an artist and poet living in Montpelier, Vermont. Kate’s first book of poems, Until Nothing More Can Break, was released in 2012. Her poems and essays in numerous journals including North American Review, Hunger Mountain, and Third Coast. Kate’s received grants from the Vermont Council on the Arts and Vermont Studio Center. Her art is an intuitive interpretation of the visual world explored through color, texture, and layering. Kate’s shown in Vermont and California and her work is in private collections around the country.

Particles, Waves, Hello, Goodbye

The names of god are an empty set, not
just any set but

the Set of sets.

Mother, martyr, murder, crow. Draw a line
to what is alike. Or opposite. Or interesting, but wrong. How

half of anything
nothing? At the same time, we
disappear around a blue curve, our images slide


into mirror. Slivering into wherever
the moon watches from behind
her dark shawl, let’s say she loses track

a couple

of days each month. While the sun’s busting his balls
to get it done, say the moon
sleeps through her blood
alarm. Haven’t I, on a random Tuesday, forgotten

your love? Language weaves a moss
around those stones with only one word
to their name, only one

name to their name. Is there
a catechism of prime numbers for water and love? Don’t
turn away. Without you, my nadir, my lodestar,

the hollowing howls.