Tag: free verse

cats tendtoexist

cats
tendtoexist in your

per
iph

eral
(vis)
(ion
and
after (a while
you move)
around the house

in a manner that
accommodates
the expectation of their

PRESENCE

waiting
to trip

you

up

on the stairs
or suddenlyemerge
from no!where
andstart s l o w w a l k i n g
in
fro
/nt
of
you

as you try
to get
from         room

to
room

(Remix of Like Ghosts)

Turned to glass

The bodies in the container 
partially thawed, moved, 
and then froze again 

— stuck to the capsule 
like a child’s tongue 
to a cold lamp post. 

Eventually the bodies 
had to be thawed to unstick, 
re-frozen and put back in. 

Cracks appeared,
cutting through the skin 
and subcutaneous fat, 

all the way down 
to the body wall or 
muscle surface beneath. 

The organs were cracked. 
The spinal cord was snapped 
and the heart — was fractured.

(From Horror Stories of Cryonics)

The last supper

Looking back, 
I think the regret about the fruit salad 
was stronger than fear of all being over.

Nella Last

All the day, the tinkle of glass 
being swept up and dumped in ash-bins 
like wind-bells in a temple, 
together with the knock-knock 
as anything handy was tacked 
in place over gaping windows.

I look at a tin of fruit longingly, 
now that fruit is so scarce.
Little sparrows had died as they crouched. 
It looked as if they had bent 
their little heads in prayer.
Not one falleth that He does not see.

Poles, Czechs, Greeks, all sparrows. 
I’ve opened the tin of fruit salad, 
and put my best embroidered cloth on, 
and made an egg-whip instead of cream. 
I’ll not take my clothes off tonight. 
I’ll give the animals an aspirin.

(from Nella Last’s World War II diary, 1941)

panting flowing breathless

Heavy, tormented waves, 
tossing in the rising tide 
and smashing on the beach in white surf 
and masses of phosphorous. 

The twilight of a dark night at sea. 
Vivid jags of lightening 
showing us to each other. 

Out until up to our shoulders, 
the waves dashed over our heads. 
Swimming, swimming out to infinity—
racing in under the pulsing water 
to the solitary light on shore. 

Swimming far out we slipped off 
our bathing suits and let 
the water caress our naked forms.
But the heavy waves swept us in.

(Alice Dunbar-Nelson’s diary, 1929)

The last ten days of Ramadan

I never said a proper goodbye
to the city where I grew up.

On the second day
I phoned my cousins.
We spoke about cancelled exams
and pilgrims stuck in Mecca.

By day four
my cousin could barely speak;
the family were all on the ground floor,
she was too afraid to shower.

A trousseau for a bride,
red slippery glittery tobes,
perfumes, dainty sandals.
Kilos of pistachios,
bags of sugared almonds,
boxes of Turkish delight –
all this would be looted.

The sky over Khartoum
was lit with savage fire,
smoke billowing at dawn.

On Eid day
I dragged myself to the mosque.
I hugged other women and cried.

Eid mubarak.

This time, they didn’t pick up.

(From 5 Sudanese writers on the country’s nightmare conflict)

God help me

What I will bring to that altar
is this nauseating sack of guts—

selfish, small, lecherous,
a mind like a whorehouse,
a tongue like a longshoreman’s,
a soft mousy body that seeks
always its own comforts,

a will deluded by hyperactive desires.
Poor wreck that I am.

Can I give over to God’s service
only so little,
and that so badly damaged,
so in and out
of sin and desire?

(John L’Heureux’s diary, April 1966)