Friday, April 13

i'm looking the same, maybe just a wonky fringe
but my insides have been ransacked.
i am a burgled house.
front door swinging and sunlight showing kicked-up dust,
totally robbed.

my hands are cold and the tide is in my throat,
as i wander about
looking for a cat
that has died.

4 comments:

Allison said...

dearest bean, are you speaking poetically or literally here? because my loveliest calico katie passed away thursday, after 20 years (since i was eight!) of love, kindness, and friendship. these words resonate so deeply. we're all looking for her, expecting, waiting, and yes, wishing to be haunted like never before.

annie said...

oh but oh, what a week for ghosts it's been...:(

Anonymous said...

But on these days of brightness,
On the far-stretching beauteous landscape, the roads and lanes, the high-piled
farm-wagons, and
the fruits and barns,
Shall the dead intrude?

Ah, the dead to me mar not—they fit well in Nature;
They fit very well in the landscape, under the trees and grass,
And along the edge of the sky, in the horizon’s far margin.

Nor do I forget you, departed;
Nor in winter or summer, my lost ones;
But most, in the open air, as now, when my soul is rapt and at peace—like pleasing
phantoms,
Your dear memories, rising, glide silently by me.

- Walt Whitman, from A Carol of Harvest, 1867

hell said...

ow x