Patchwork

pushing
through layers
of denim and wool
the needle rocks

when he died,
i took all his trousers
and made a quilt
his jeans
his coveralls
his uniforms
and a pair
of green and purple bermuda shorts
he bought
because i said he should

from the closet
the dresser
boxes in the attic
and the trunk of his car

i collected them all,
and cut from them
perfect
8 inch squares

piecing
his memory,
frayed edges
tucked from view.

the needle rocks
surfacing
submerging
dragging bloody thread
through shredded wooly batting


© 2003 catnapping

one-shoe magoo

One-Shoe Magoo
slept under a wooden bridge
I crossed every morning
on the way to school.

Hair the colour of blood
whipped wildly
about her head
and tangled
in the rosaries
strung around her neck.

She wore
colossal pink roses
on a grey sack.
And she covered her shins
with brown-on-browner
argyle socks.

She stuck
on her right foot,
an oxblood penny loafer.

And written
in bold block letters
from instep to sidestep,
around its heel
in black magic marker,
was the name

Magoo.


© 2003 catnapping

Yet another edit of "Father"

When my father entered a room
walls sighed,
the floor smoothed to glass
and light splintered,
falling in shards around him.

He would lift me up
onto a brick wall
that anchored our patio,
so I could watch silver beasts
slip shiny ribbon
miles away.

The sweep of his hand,
brought their bellies
overhead.
And he willed
that my little body stand,
against the beasts' roar.

For him
they made the wind
I breathed,
an explosion
I could not resist.

© 2002 Catnapping

Osphelus' Moongoddess

He is in love
with the moon
and she with him,
his pale hair
gently reflecting
her quiet light.

In a dark world
she holds him.
His blue eyes follow
her gleaming hands,
as she smoothes
away his day.

She bathes him
She kisses him
He sleeps,
shimmering.
lovingly cradled,
in her tender radiance.


© 2003 catnapping

Another Ghost

The sun slips
behind black silk,
and breathing stills.
Lilac floats
on swollen air.

Small dreams
swim in twilight,
white ribbons
across the moon

I wait
in full blossom
my feet warm
in the spreading moss

A cricket calls, lonely,
from another valley,
in another hollow.
Another shadow.

Another pause


© 2004 Catnapping