Katherine DeBlassie



It happened in the refrain of a season—
the monsoons break the sound

of heat — she had a body and then she didn’t.
The water clipped the home’s edges,

and then it didn’t. Before she was without
a body, she made the dog stand on two legs

for longer than a jump-up
just to kiss her.

The monsoon breaks and begins again,
beats against the house,

sounds like soldiers marching on
the roof, a wet relief,

a relief that there is still more body
in the world to be had,

that the heat will throb on,
until it’s done with itself.


KATHERINE DEBLASSIE‘s work has appeared in or is forthcoming in Inch, Zone 3, Tidal Basin, Court Green, Boxcar Poetry Review, Verse Daily and Cutthroat among others. She earned her MFA from the University of Maryland. She received an honorable mention for the 2011 Rita Dove Poetry Prize, was a finalist for the 2009 Joy Harjo Poetry Prize and received Work-Study Scholarships for the Bread Loaf Writers’ Conference.


Read more work by Katherine DeBlassie:

Poem in Boxcar Poetry Review
Poem in 200 New Mexico Poems
Poem in Women & Creativity