Two Poems
one old...one new
Murder in Three Parts
05.01.2012
i.
My heart jackhammers my ribs
pounding away at the
not quite bone of my sternum
with no regard for my lungs
or the other bits of viscera
that swell and subside in a similar tempo.
But, I understand it’s fear
it’s clamoring anxiety,
wanting to occupy any place
in space and time but here.
ii.
Behind us, the house is burning.
Lapping at the evidence
of 16 years and combing
hot fingers down the still,
golden backs of two dead dogs
and the dying family,
held to their beds in
a drugged sleep.
By now, their own hearts
should have stopped their clamouring.
The lungs wilting to stillness in the heat.
iii.
How the fire started
is hard to say.
Whether it was the match,
or the long dry summer,
or even the ancient pine floors.
Regardless, the roof
caves in and firetruck
wheels the corner, hoses
already half unfurled.
My heart slows, and
begins the giddy beat of freedom.
Stray Cats
1.13.2010
a few nights ago i was startled awake
by silence seeping through the cracks in
your windows and the cold
shivers it sent down my back
it smothers the room
and playfully bats aside
the casual drone of
your fan like an insect
and searches the corners of darkness
for other mischief
i am still and watch you sleep
and my heart hammers with fear
at the conspicious absence of noise
but now - the hush is here
settling contentedly at the foot
of your bed kneading tiny paws
and no amount of wishing will
summon the sounds of the
streets to dislodge it
the silence blinks at me slowly
as i press close to you
curling small fingers around your arm
my face pressed to your shoulder
and i brace myself
for the aftermath of our catastrophe
and the taciturnity of the moment purrs
and stretches out on its back
begging me to scratch its belly like an old friend
Murder in Three Parts
05.01.2012
i.
My heart jackhammers my ribs
pounding away at the
not quite bone of my sternum
with no regard for my lungs
or the other bits of viscera
that swell and subside in a similar tempo.
But, I understand it’s fear
it’s clamoring anxiety,
wanting to occupy any place
in space and time but here.
ii.
Behind us, the house is burning.
Lapping at the evidence
of 16 years and combing
hot fingers down the still,
golden backs of two dead dogs
and the dying family,
held to their beds in
a drugged sleep.
By now, their own hearts
should have stopped their clamouring.
The lungs wilting to stillness in the heat.
iii.
How the fire started
is hard to say.
Whether it was the match,
or the long dry summer,
or even the ancient pine floors.
Regardless, the roof
caves in and firetruck
wheels the corner, hoses
already half unfurled.
My heart slows, and
begins the giddy beat of freedom.
Stray Cats
1.13.2010
a few nights ago i was startled awake
by silence seeping through the cracks in
your windows and the cold
shivers it sent down my back
it smothers the room
and playfully bats aside
the casual drone of
your fan like an insect
and searches the corners of darkness
for other mischief
i am still and watch you sleep
and my heart hammers with fear
at the conspicious absence of noise
but now - the hush is here
settling contentedly at the foot
of your bed kneading tiny paws
and no amount of wishing will
summon the sounds of the
streets to dislodge it
the silence blinks at me slowly
as i press close to you
curling small fingers around your arm
my face pressed to your shoulder
and i brace myself
for the aftermath of our catastrophe
and the taciturnity of the moment purrs
and stretches out on its back
begging me to scratch its belly like an old friend