[POETRY]

[12/29/25]

Sometimes It Looks Like a Stranger

Two Poems by Caitlin Thomson

Woodbine

On the beach a cloud is being dismantled,
as kids speed by on scooters, and a man yells
into his phone, I never want to be trapped in
a car with you again on a beautiful day.

A yellow CAT holds one piece of the
cloud high in the air.

From the Storm

I need to tell you that shelter is found everywhere,
although sometimes it looks like a stranger.

The yoga teacher says Everything I want and need
is right here inside me, but she also drinks water
from the tap, and spends part of her run dodging cars.

And yes, cars can be shelter or death. We all
contain multitudes. A friend says that she doesn’t
feel safe with me. I reply, we are not safe with each other.

Most buildings have nails to keep them together, most
humans are connected by satellites, the false
stars I look up at from the slope of lawn.

CAITLIN THOMSON is the co-founder of The Poetry Marathon. Her work has appeared in numerous anthologies and literary journals including: The Penn Review, Radar Poetry, The Fiddlehead, and The Account. You can learn more about her writing at www.caitlinthomson.com.