Mag 294

cat kitchen

In the impalpable grey

Of a night long fallen

I chase your ghosts

Undressing piously

By the refrigerator door.

The rooms are unmade,

Crippled in passage.

Stacks of pots

Swarm the kitchen

The aromas

No longer appetizing

I catch you there

Amongst panicked dingy tiles,

In your robe

Sniveling, sleepless,

Swooning on the kitchen floor.

There is no one to cook for,

No one to object or postpone.

You’ve pared your life down

Now there are only bones

And a disapproving cat

That is more coquette than conservator.

I am only a voice

Primordial, vacant

Tethered in an inexplicable nexus

Around your pale tremulous throat

I don’t want to kill you after all

But it may already be too late.

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15 responses to “Mag 294

  1. I love how vague the opening stanza is. Maybe the ghosts are undressing, or maybe the speaker is undressing. Or maybe both!

    This is my fave:
    “Now there are only bones
    And a disapproving cat
    That is more coquette than conservator.”

    And the last two lines, of course.

    You’re so awesome. 🙂

    Hey, if you give me your email address, I can send you an invite to my blog. I think my email address shows up on your comments dealio in wordpress.

  2. I love the image! And more so – I am enthralled by your poem Yves!

    there are too numerous delicious lines … descriptions so appetizing and new … and the sense … the underlying sense … of loneliness, desperation … is so well convey …. but in a fashion of metaphors that are outstanding in their authenticity and uniqueness … it is terribly difficult NOT to be so captivated here Yves!

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