Photo by Jeffrey F. Barken

In The Field

– Poetry By Angela Kimber – 

‘In The Field’

And what would you know of these hands?
Knuckles burrowed into soil
Shoving seeds to root
The blackened earth beneath my nails
Soot of this life, less charmed

You could know something of these eyes
Irish lidded irises
Staring hard into the glare
A furrowed brow cuts lines into once soft and youthful skin

I let you know my heart
Beating hard and bleeding down these rolled up sleeves
Held nothing to the vest
Not even these thoughts
In this moment of unrest

Amans Obsequor

And I’ve the shakes again
Shivers of uncertainty swallow my loins
And sleep passes like shadows across windows of some moving train of thought.

I forgot to have my ticket punched
Instead a hole in my middle
Weakly reminds me of the hunger in heartsick

I close my eyes and feel the centripedal sway of this quiet orbit
We pass out of sync and our radios sparkle in broken silence

Inside I’m screaming
But there’s no sound in space


Angela Kimber


Angela Kimber is a budding rocket scientist, working to complete her PhD in Aerospace Engineering at the University of Michigan. Despite her penchant for mathematics and science, she has always heartily fed her love of arts and humanities, whether training as a classical cellist, or writing poetry to cure her ails and connect to the rest of the human race. After being raised in Colorado, she lived for many years in Seattle, Washington before moving to Michigan to finish her graduate degree, crediting her immense fortune of living in only the most beautiful of places to her amazing family for their endless support and excellent taste in homesteading locations. When not feigning to be an author, scientist, or anyone of consequence, she likes to spend her days feeling the wind at her back on a long bike ride, or reliving her childhood humors through her wondrously inspiring daughter, Guenevere.