Broken Shackle

wave crests
sunken brown
tsunami crashes
into shores
of wall

green stola blows,
her fixated copper
like dandelion fluff.
Right arm, half staff
left armed
July memories
– ancient libertas.

fenced sea wall
batters and splatters

She takes off pointed crown
picks up broken chain – fraud
of the shattered shackle.
Hadn’t she moved forward
some? Her own mom’s offering
coming undone.

barricaded mothers
and caged alien

Her robes evanesce
torch trails to a wisp.
Maybe she’ll waft south
rekindle, or jump
into the Harbour
and sink
or swim

Kathleen Klassen is an emerging writer who discovered poetry as a source of healing after injury. She has been published on, Anti-Heroin Chic,, with In/Words Magazine and Press and looks forward to upcoming publications with Alternative Field and ottawater. Read other articles by Kathleen.