Unkempt Garden
by Eden of @the.autisticats the soft green of a willow tree tells the blooming rose to burn a brighter red so i can pick it for my friend because i love her and she doesn’t see how anyone could thistles tangle in my ribcage after the screams and cries of the bloodied and visions of foundational collapse reach cable television the rose wilts because violence is thirsty and the sun is hot as my mother tells me it is brave simply to live quiet honeysuckle fills my lungs with sugar and i can breathe again
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Northern Corner
by Eden of @the.autisticats I listen to the wind, blowing, causing the motion Of torn plastic bags in a Target parking lot Leaves of the weeds growing at the base of a tree stump The American flags and abandoned banners of protesters in Ferguson And the wrapper of the Snickers bar at midnight in Washington D.C. The light of a passing Cadillac reveals black graffiti on blood red brick Tires on asphalt allow for the scene to be obscured By trees and a telephone booth There I sit, waiting for a quarter to call home Here on earth in a northern corner In a room full of people who grew up on the same music that I did I am not alone but I am lonely Friction wasn’t enough to stop the move Billboards have made me sick to my stomach Nail beds bitten raw I don’t belong here, and here doesn’t belong to me Less than a year ago, Titanium made me cry So did 6th period English class, and so did the number 58 But the dead dog didn’t Because the second time I almost broke, I hardened instead So now when the pressure in my head is too much I press down even harder And when the television set calmly articulates explosions I scream and shred pieces of lined notebook paper And set mint leaves on fire I go to bed, but not to sleep Blankets cover me, conceal me Swaddle my pain and give it warm milk An alligator and a bear offer their sympathies But my thoughts dwell elsewhere Mind racing in circles only about the death of a mother On Sunday, May 8th, tears fall more than they did in two years’ time Because I loved her without ever knowing her And she wasn’t even mine Shards of sea glass and a camera and a cane Being sliced open by the inspiration for Shakespeare’s tragedies Visions of the flowers at her grave one week later Street lamp illuminates the wilted roses in yellow glow Petals tumble away on bits of sandstone They cannot bear the pain of residing where a life once was They die too, and their fragrance gives way to the stillness of the night Elaine :-)
by Eden of @the.autisticats clear ice decorates small branches of small trees a spark ignites the ice does not melt it spreads there is comfort, here in your arms above and in front and below me here you are maroon sweater, white collared shirt that song was a prophecy a small revolution and a shaved head you pulled me in then stranded me basement lights and swirling nights my hot, prickling neck it’s not lonely here being alone with you with this comforting risk this dangerous sense of safety absolute warmth your arm over my side my back at your front quiet love white pillows, changing red to pink to green hesitation, then a kiss spiraling energy from lips to hips, she’s mine she’s hers hers. her. hers. who? do you still like her? no why nevermind dedication, proclamation, I love you. silence and a whisper of doubt denial adrenaline there is comfort, here in your arms above and in front and below me here we are braless and breathing |
AuthorWe're the Autisticats: Eden, Leo, and Laurel. This is where we post our original poetry. Archives
December 2019
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