2 Poems by Kim Kishbaugh

I like my life but it’s unexpected
After Erich’s tweet

college degree, $100,000 in debt, slinging coffeehouse lattes at privileged mommies and daddies whose kids want cake pops and won’t be quiet till they get them

scan the job ads looking for a way to put four years of rhetoric and econ and history classes to use but there’s 1400 other college grads and laid-off middle managers competing for every one 

I want to do good in the world, make change, care for my parents when they grow old – but right now that looks more like someone else’s future or maybe no one’s

look around it’s the same for everyone, nothing special about me, a whole generation getting skilled at punching cash registers and clearing drinks from tables, thank you ma’am just happy for the work

my best buds have had bad jobs, no jobs, gone back to school hoping it’ll be different the second time around, most of us still living with our parents, sleeping in the same beds we had before puberty

friday nights I’m cleaning locker rooms at the high school picking up the left-behind jock strap of some kid whose future I can predict cuz I’m living it now

don’t get me wrong – I like my life 
but it’s unexpected

RIP Munchkin

Spoon-feed a sick hamster
from a jar of baby food
and you, too, will form a bond

Days later, when she dies on the table
during surgery you never imagined paying for,
you, too, will cry

Then you’ll stifle your sobs and sniffles,
collect your child from school,
and prepare to break the news

Later, you’ll gather your family around the dining table
still mourning, and draw together, 
pictures of hamster memories

One will become the memorial card
your child hands to friends
to harness his grief and theirs


Kim Kishbaugh is a former journalist whose poetry and other stuff has been published in some places, including here on the Back Patio. She wanders through the world looking for magic and sometimes finds it. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram: @kkish.

“Eyes Ahead” by Kim Kishbaugh

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Past pitted buildings the boy tramps sidewalks by day
sandals padding hot pavement
loneliness icing his soul
he has learned to walk alert but calm
claim his space
look at no one
look away from no one
The dog that paces beside him
has no name
but has learned to wait for scraps
in exchange for the snarls she directs
at anyone not the boy
At night they bed together
mostly in silence

 

Kim Kishbaugh is a former journalist whose poetry has been published or is forthcoming at Escape into Life, goodbaad, Headline Poetry & Press, and Tiny Seed Literary Journal.
She wanders through the world looking for magic and sometimes finds it. You can find her on Twitter and Instagram: @kkish.