Kat’s Corner is a poetry segment that is open to student submission. If you would like your piece potentially published, email the culture editor at email@example.com. This following piece is from the Collegian’s managing editor, Dene Dryden.
Blessed be these Kansas rains; we surely need them more than ever.
Everything’s slick and wet with angel tears, roots slurping, umbrellas
flashing open with their dots, their blues, red stripes and patterned tattoos.
Yesterday, I saw a woman swiping the ground, drawing with chalk on campus.
Her hard work has swept away; nothing remains on the pavement but you.
I thought you first a cluster of white petals, since they’ve been battered
by rain, but no, you were belly up, white fluff saturated in water. I know you,
your opalescent scales were ruined pressed against wet cement, would you
ever fly again? As I passed—and paused—I was sure you were gone.
But in a hair of time your curled legs twitched, and the clouds darkened gray.
Life gives and it takes; today it took your cottonbud body, your iridescence
from the night, mini moth eggs you could’ve—or should’ve—spawned.
Your dark eyes will rise again on the plains, a sprite, a fairy,
to grasp in your limbs pollen, nectar, anima of others
suppressed in favor of impending rain.