Courses, a poem written by Katy Santiff at



written by: Katy Santiff



As an island child, I would pull myself up on the crib
and look through glass-locked darkness
for reindeer to cut courses over cinder block homes.
Surely, I would see their flights–

there’d be some Comet in the harbor sky, a red nose.
How would the Round Man find us,
I wondered, thinking his firs aren’t planted on
our beach.
Did these palm trees need stringed lights?

I’d wait, watching, a student of Polynesian gleams.
It seemed that once, maybe twice,
celestial streaking meant Old Nick found Oahu.
Air Force child–they’re satellites.

Latest posts by Katy Santiff (see all)