Wednesday, February 5, 2014

You and I talked once about death, and how the only way to avoid thinking about it is to keep busy. I've wondered sometimes if that's all life is: putting off the inevitable.

Saturday, February 1, 2014

September 14, 2009

Tear soaked,
I shred the pillow in your absence,
sharpen my claws on this stone slab
I sleep on.
I'm always a kitten for you,
but tonight the wild thing
crawled upward out of my throat.
You should have seen her--
red eyed, teeth gleaming--
the white line of her body
like a comet's tail in the dark.

She was gone as quickly as she came,
and all I was left with was myself
stripped clean,
bare down to the bones,
a shock of hot breath on the bedsheet.
Tears, snot, saliva--
all of it a great sopping mess.

You should have seen it.