Thursday, April 27, 2017

A Warm Winter

I pine for the
soft robots
and fast sloths
of spring.
it’s been months of
hot blood:
hot blood
at lunch,
hot blood
in the shower.
I want to kiss you
like a kitten licks
things
but we kiss
like we’re chatting,
not like cats
at all, and
anyway, ever since
I found that cat
and brought him back,
my life is
re-interpreted
through a haze of fur.
I saved his life
instead of watching
werewolves.
now it’s all stupid
meows instead of
transformations.
even my nosebleeds are
mundane.
there’s no snow.
we hike in the mud.
my only pleasure is
the feel of your arm.
please don’t
tell me that anecdote
again.

  -----Tessa Barber

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