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written by: Katy Santiff 


I used to think me native when I was
just a kid, run the deer paths like they were
leading to a distant drumming heart, felt
leaves and trees beneath my feet returning
back to earth, the way their fabric flayed and
became dirt. I listened for wood-whistles
on the wind, the creek of dogwood branches
as they swayed, how one became a thousand
when the evening would begin. I answered
all the night-things as they asked of me my
mind--the reason for my rush, outward flight.
I told them that I must be made of fire,
cow licking embered soul into the night.

Katy Santiff

Katy Santiff

Katy Santiff has written poetry in various forms all her life. She believes in densely-packed poems, preferring them to be mouthfuls when read aloud. A lifelong Marylander, she loves water-side living. She currently lives in Edgewater, Maryland with her wife. Her published poems can be found in Vita Brevis Poetry Magazine and Spillwords Press.
Katy Santiff

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