The heart beats –
A domestic abuser –
Pounding on life’s cage
When we all know if he would just settle
If he would just quiet down
We’d all know some peace
Author: abykittiwakewrites
Bedroom Cats
I foster two kittens
Who pool at my feet, on my lap, in my bed
And stretch into rivers when I dip my fingers into their fur
Black and pulsing, ginger and calm
Their mouths open into silent meows
And I see the rows of sharp teeth
Those craggy rapids
Which devour all I lay at their head
Where We Cross
Avoid the bees bouncing about the lavender
Use the bird knocker
And cross the threshold
Night bleeds into day
shadows spread into darkness
The sun yet in its place-
Only us turning away
Cross the threshold
Letting the wind yawn into the hallway
Letting the gap between us fester as ember-eaten wool
Letting the whole black freckled with stars become our only greeting
Turn to me
Cardinal
5 Red comet at dawn
7 Scythe’s companion, novice fire
5 Hope whistles, whistles
The State of Things
Lingers now the barren moon
How we hear the classical music
And forget the wordless notes
How we need thee to aggravate waves
Stir into motion cerebrospinal fluid
How you hope with thy gravity
That eternal message sent in the ocean
I am here
Come
On Endings
Your ghost haunts all the best writing spots
Laughs into its tea
Greets me as if it has no memory
Our last argument eternally unended
I laugh along
Knowing I am hated
Even in that shell
Shields
If you must carry a shield at all times
I tell him as he screams one into view
Then you’re not strong enough to take the hit
I’ve taken plenty hits, he growls
None like this
A sword flares into his hand
I raise my eyebrows then frown
The shield is one thing
but this is-
unexpected
Strong enough to give one, he says
I’m tempted to sigh
Instead
I accept a blow
And another. And another.
I step back and watch him curiously as the blood drips down
How’d that feel? he snarls
He throws a wild punch which doesn’t land
Before he continues, I pause
The mistake was mine
I stumbled and shot an arrow into real-world battle
And hit him dead in the heart
Now his ghost storms around
Concocting battles for me to die in
As requested
I give him feedback
Great thrust. Nasty slash that one.
Not calculated enough. You’re getting lazy.
It’s the least I can do
I Stand Beside Your Gravestone
I stand beside your gravestone
Weeks after the funeral
Was I not invited?
I have my good byes to say
And say them
I turn back for another glance
Knowing I’ll return
There’s always more poetry to share
As I turn away,
Shield my eyes from the sun
On my walk to the car,
I promise
To not disturb you anymore
The Trust Fall of Mental Illness
I hear the thunder, but never see the lightning. Imperceptible memory. There’s a storm coming I might say. A storm came. Touching blue. Feeling the bruised bits of self. Seeing red- not the waving flag nor the sword.
Passing through moments and coming out the other side as residual. On the battlefield, I’m a ghost. I digest the moment by another’s insight, another’s memory. My own core cracked. A dropped egg- what leaks cannot be returned to natural holding. To mark the moment, I make quick sketches of what I’ve seen. Will see.
I fear this remembrance style will fade into the feeling. I shiver. Convulse. Shock treatment. Imperceptible memory. Of something. Have I changed tenses again?
I marinate in each moment. Taking on the flavor of of yelling. Of yellow. Voracious. Ferocious. Both. Then
nothing. The lightning strikes. Why am I counting? Imperceptible memory. At least I have you to fall back on.
On this blackest of days
Hope sputters and almost goes out
Shadows converge then leap apart again,
Crazed dance of our soon to be champions,
And in our fear, we learn Hope was only clearing His throat
To make way for even brighter light
No, my friend,
Hope will never go out
AbyKittiwake 