My Soul

My soul

is the sea-skimming air

that whistles through young children’s shells,

mimicking siren calls

 

It is

the hurricane gusts

that pierce open-backed treehouses

and toss ladders in the air like tattered ribbons

 

Yet it is also

the flirting breeze

that dances across tiny freckles and eyelids, 

whispering hello

and goodbye

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The Lone Cat

MA

16 years old

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  • By The Lone Cat

    exoticism

    grey eyes
    stare, openly
    at the flesh of elephant plums
    raw and hanging, dripping with a sour earthiness
    open your fists, green guava
    soon dropped upon the shore
    of a tall-tiered world, singing of poverty and praises

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  • By The Lone Cat

    Peach tea

    i hope you can see my future
    in dripping peach tea leaves,
    chemically bloated with sweetener
    until the silver edges and feminine handle are sticky with syrup

    what do the dredges whisper to you, teller?

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