Poetry | Stories | Photography
No heat on at night
the cold crisp covers caress you.
Positioned for sleep
the cat positions herself near your leg.
Waking at three am
the pain of a numb leg and the great urge.
Wobbling in the dark
almost falling into the toilet darkness.
Coming back to bed
The mischief begins
deciduous heart
like the elm tree losing leaves
a heart made for Spring
turn towards the sea
away from the proposal
a sapphire promise
calling for the one you love
walk into the saltwater
From the winter night
youthful crimson lips appear
With Bloom’s sweet promise
caught within those deep green eyes
A delicious meal for one
Blinds hide the sunlight
another financial year
letting some light in
The quarterly budget tears
shining sunlight on the screen
Sea pigeons do circle
The scent of methane, rotten and sour
dreaming of verdant green
forgotten by the world
sitting beside a broken toaster
kettle without a cup
We remember a home
to be of service, to have purpose
boiling, steaming, toasting
Idle
We sit contemplating
Waiting
drab brown aesthetics
puffy taffeta pink dress
a pencil and tape
loading the cassette player
dance to forget the cold war
Grandma gardening
with her curious grandchild
Into everything
They stumble upon a worm
“Do worms live in dirt wormholes?”
Grandma looks around
Her curious grandchild waits
poking at the worms
Grandma looks down sternly and
says, “They live in a Worm House.”
To be a savant
a cool ring to the title
To be so brilliant,
yet shit at mathematics
Why must it be poetry?
Intricate buttons
skirmish with the little loops
Haphazard dressing
Angry energy rising
Ripping and throwing buttons
C & K 