and there stands a Kraken
on two legs,
the other six curled under
like a skirt.
He’s turned red from the cold.
What he’s doing this far inland beats me.
Plainly lost, or escaped from
someone’s aquarium.
Flattening the back seat of the car,
I enjoy watching his fluid locomotion—
push right go left.
Encouraged to ooze
into the space, this soft,
squishy body fills
the entire compartment,
tentacles overflowing
onto the floor.
He must be a juvenile, because a fully grown Kraken
would carry the car,
not fit inside.
I cover him with wet towels,
drive an hour to the beach, park next to the pier.
Good thing it’s winter—
not a lot of people.
We wait until dark,
me splashing bottled water on him.
When it’s safe, I open the car doors.
Before I can say anything,
he smells the ocean and is off,
flinging wet towels
in all
directions.
A quick wave of a tentacle, and he’s gone.
is the author of one poetry collection, Forget the Moon. Born in Denver, Colorado, she grew up in Alberta, Canada, where she often saw the Northern Lights in winter. When she was a teenager, her family relocated to Southern California where she has happily lived ever since.
Her poems have appeared in Burningword Literary Journal, Calyx, Crab Creek Review, Cultural Weekly, Inlandia: A Literary Journey, The Lummox Journal, MacQueen’s Quinterly, ONTHEBUS, Rattle, RipRap, and Spillway, among others; as well as in these anthologies: 13 Los Angeles Poets, So Luminous the Wildflowers, and Beyond the Lyric Moment.
A recent Pushcart nominee, Patti earned her MFA at California State University, Fullerton. Now a retired art teacher, she and her husband of 68 years have two children and three grandchildren.
