Three poems
by: Katherine Wynn
Sweetness and Danger
sweetness
i stand amidst the trees, your hand
tangled in my own,
flowers litter the ground - you stretch and
hand them to me. slowly,
we weave them into my hair,
together.
and danger.
i stand amidst the bodies of strangers, your hand
nowhere to be found.
there are no flowers. there is
no kindness. slowly,
i suffocate,
alone.
The Fraying Aphgan
my sick white old cat
(her diabetes just turned for the worse)
raises her paws, preparing herself to
launch right on the aphgan
on my mother’s lap.
she hunkers down - one, two -and leaps -
three! - onto the frizzy yellowblue wool kneading her flimsy claws
into the fraying yarn.
Yank! my mother huffs -
“God, just go away! i don’t want you here!”
and, with a sharp sigh,
shoves my cat down to the floor
her claws snagging in the loops of yarn
“she just wants to be close to you mom”
she doesn’t even meet my eyes.
“well she’s annoying -
and she’s ruining my damn aphgan.”
i breathe in. i want to say:
if you’d stop pushing her down
this wouldn’t have happened.
instead, i gather my cat in my arms
and retreat.
Bonnie and Clyde
black metal never looked so warm
and inviting. it called
to my callouses and swollen tendons
the barrel complimented my bruises,
never seen such a lovely shade of violet
seduced me with violence and ruses
loaded with quickbangwords that he chooses
he says i am his muse.
the aestheticization of brutality
and the anesthetic of duality
consume us.
romance in enthusiasm, quickly made fanaticism
we interlock our hands
a flick of shock as we tick and cock
Bang! with a capturing flash and crash
love is in the air!
by: Katherine Wynn
Sweetness and Danger
sweetness
i stand amidst the trees, your hand
tangled in my own,
flowers litter the ground - you stretch and
hand them to me. slowly,
we weave them into my hair,
together.
and danger.
i stand amidst the bodies of strangers, your hand
nowhere to be found.
there are no flowers. there is
no kindness. slowly,
i suffocate,
alone.
The Fraying Aphgan
my sick white old cat
(her diabetes just turned for the worse)
raises her paws, preparing herself to
launch right on the aphgan
on my mother’s lap.
she hunkers down - one, two -and leaps -
three! - onto the frizzy yellowblue wool kneading her flimsy claws
into the fraying yarn.
Yank! my mother huffs -
“God, just go away! i don’t want you here!”
and, with a sharp sigh,
shoves my cat down to the floor
her claws snagging in the loops of yarn
“she just wants to be close to you mom”
she doesn’t even meet my eyes.
“well she’s annoying -
and she’s ruining my damn aphgan.”
i breathe in. i want to say:
if you’d stop pushing her down
this wouldn’t have happened.
instead, i gather my cat in my arms
and retreat.
Bonnie and Clyde
black metal never looked so warm
and inviting. it called
to my callouses and swollen tendons
the barrel complimented my bruises,
never seen such a lovely shade of violet
seduced me with violence and ruses
loaded with quickbangwords that he chooses
he says i am his muse.
the aestheticization of brutality
and the anesthetic of duality
consume us.
romance in enthusiasm, quickly made fanaticism
we interlock our hands
a flick of shock as we tick and cock
Bang! with a capturing flash and crash
love is in the air!