This Kansas poet laureate project explores “home” in four expanding contexts: from the mobile home of the body, to the house that encloses it, to the land that anchors the house, to the sky that holds it all.
Today, we’re printing a series of longer cinquain sequences that explore the idea of “home.” A number of poets really let their hems out in this project, some of them saying they’ve become “addicted” to the tiny cinquain. (I understand!)
It’s a little like writing on a postage stamp. The American Cinquain is just 22 syllables divided among five lines in this order: 2, 4, 6, 8, and back to 2. In this case, the poet has varied the form a bit.
Trish Reeves of Prairie Village is an award-winning poet with books from BkMk Press and the Cleveland State University Poetry Center. She has received fellowships for her poetry from the National Endowment for the Arts and Yaddo, among others, and a Pushcart Prize Special Mention.
The National Institutes of Health considers Reeves’ great-grandfather, Joseph J. Kinyoun, M.D., Ph.D, their founder. His first federal posting was at the U.S. Marine Hospital on Staten Island, New York, and his last was on Angel Island, California, during the bubonic plague outbreak.
two for smallpox, they stood
up the hill from my grandmother’s
in a bathtub, they ate
each others’ legs if the boys
the country on
Staten Island a mob
burned down the “Quarantine” long ago
parrots shrieked, a monkey
grabbed a riding crop and scared
these stories of
Grandmother’s life to speak
of the ways of children, and brave
To read past HomeWords columns, visit www.kansashumanities.org.