Thursday, April 5, 2012

Delicate balances

I once saw a man dropkick a cat
because he could, a dark sharp creature that
only hoped for heat and light and food
like me. I did not look up. I merely sat

and stared into the meaty hollow of the mood.
He has demons too, said the heart pale and good.
How dare he! said the tattered black stone on the left.
Balancing my fears on the end of my nose, I put up my hood.

I am mighty compared to the girl I was; now I have a certain heft
and lack the fear of being heard, a being full of laugh and breath.
But something dark holds its heavy hand above my head
and the world has turned like a worm. Hurry. Talk quickly. Be deft.

So, now I’m a mountain instead of the girl sent early to bed,
but that girl is still here: She remembers imagining being dead
and the bomb shelter drills and the way the teacher said,
Hush! I am also the cat who pushes headfirst into a crevice instead.

Visit the dverse pub for more poetry.