wyrdwind

I’m Fine

Originally I’d intended to call her Burglar

Beating out Space Ghost and Bondman thrown in the ring

But when I brought my kitten home she was terrified and sick

And immediately disappeared into the sewing fabric rack

Which formed a false divider with a floor to ceiling bookcase

What could I do but set out her box and dishes

Right there in the living room

And for days quit my bed to sleep on the couch instead

So she wouldn’t feel alone

And sure enough if I kept so so still and slowed my breaths

A spiny, shivering little misery would press herself against my ribs

Wheezing and sneezing

But if I made any move to comfort her she’d bolt in a scrambling frenzy

Then one night I yawned wide

And she sneezed a giant booger right into my open mouth

I gagged

So, Booger

Booger is a much, much bigger girl now

The size of a Tom

And I responded with a delicate “achoo” so many times

That she thinks sneezes part of my language, just how us big girls communicate

She does them on purpose

One early summer afternoon she finally braved my bed

After many a furtive glance

And I played rain fireplace Irish fiddle sounds (her favorite) and pretended I didn’t notice

Soon enough she was capsized on a pile of pillows and blankets

A plush mass of thick, medium length silken fur, belly expanse

One foot hurled over to fwap on my leg

Sleeping upside down, open mouthed, tongue out the side, pure security and contentment

Not a cloud in the sky, not a thought in her head

And I should really learn to keep a nightstand

Because I ugly cried for hours

Snot everywhere

.

Filial Duty

I dreamt that I woke in the wee hours—

When it’s 120 by day and 90 by night your winks are fitful at best—

And sat up to witness my grandmother teetering down the half-lit hallway

I couldn’t see her face

She faintly rattled the knob of mom’s door

Closed as it ever was

Locked, rattle, locked

Turned and shuffled off

I rose before the sun, air uncommonly cool, and paused

Because my girls guarded the foot of my bed, tails lashing

Wide eyed staring at the hallway where she’d been

They wouldn’t cross the threshold

Later, as my mother who has less than one lung between the two

Spent most of her breath telling me all about the life, times, and talent of Taylor Swift

Again

She tried to touch my knee companionably and I repulsed as usual

She got snappy

Then after waterboarding her prefrontal cortex with a algorithmic stream of short form videos

Pestered me into looking at some garbage low effort meme that went

Do you ever realize mid sentence that the person you’re talking to

Just doesn’t give a single fuck

.

Silent Hill

I was the first and only friend she was ever allowed

And I had a sense what I was getting myself into with sleepovers

But I knew that to achieve my objective

I must dig deeper, get to the root, go black ops

Trading custom soundscapes, star trails burnt by pirated mp3s

She was my introduction to Akira Yamaoka

Our Lady Mary McGylnn

Room of Angel

High up over a pseudo suburb, facing the distant casino lights

Sometimes we’d lay side by side in a concrete wash when it rained

Her house was white and spotless

All the windows covered up, nothing out of its place

Every piece of food accounted for, every meal unseasoned and the same

So many mirrors, why so many mirrors?

She was not permitted to shut her bedroom door

The room had to be ready for inspection at a moment’s notice

Her brother emerged across the hall

And asked if I wanted to see his new video game, shifty eyed, blunt and oblivious

Horror of course, grotesque images and eerie figurines meticulously displayed in a likewise white room

Straight up creep museum

Invited me to sit on the flat edge of his crisply made white bed

I have sat with more comfort during an 8-hour dental procedure with only light local anesthesia

In Mexico with cartels kicking up a fuss, grid flickering, no bells and whistles

Holding the tool rotation she picked and cut at me with

There was a small bloody screwdriver involved towards the end, then stitches

Had to grow a patch of jaw back

Started my period mid procedure

I digress

For my sister

Obviously I couldn’t sleep for shit

And I’d get up in the middle of the night and sneak into the bathroom

Sneak, because her grandmother forbade goings on past curfew

Turn the light on only after I blocked the cracks

And cry

But lo and behold, a round yellow eye beneath the laundry room door

An answering cry

Apparently she had two cats

Her grandmother kept them locked in there

One would just pace back and forth against the screen unseeing and never did regain her wits, poor girl

And the other would climb into my lap

And I would sit in the dark and hold her until dawn

Long after The Escape, and during a brittle truce at the tail end of The Silence

And I become the selfish stone heart villain

Who cast Winter down upon the entire family, I the hole in the tapestry, the missing tree in the canopy

I visited them a few towns over at their spotless apartment for my birthday

All the windows covered up, nothing out of its place

Every piece of food accounted for, every meal unseasoned and the same

Upon a time, if I forgot to turn the shower knob down to Bath, she’d scream and swear at me

Leave angry, bossy notes and enter my room without asking

Yell and snap if I touched anything or generally existed while sick

Closed doors were a trigger for Karmal’s PTSD

She’d MROW to high heaven if she lost line of sight

So I pissed and shat with an audience

I wouldn’t be trapped by some wickedness on her watch

That door would stay wide open, in case of emergency extraction

And as was my habit by this time

As night fell and sleep descended for everyone but myself

I wept, silent

Gnarled with some nameless, retching ache, a hollow

And who did appear from the opposite side of the apartment

But my erstwhile feline companion

To join me in my secret griefly excursion

Curled right up on my chest, cheek, and chin with her sizable crook tail tortie self

And purred until my distress subsided

When in doubt, rumble it out

Years later, After Everything, the adoption agency would tell my sister

No matter how many character references she collected

That her childhood trauma made her unfit to be a mother

Show me a woman who isn’t

My pen was not among them

Nor had she asked

.

Paw Patrol

Back when I had a shower

Before a series of catastrophic plumbing issues wiped running water to the entire house for well over a year

And I lost both my bathroom ad my closet

Before I bathed with a kettle in the kitchen or a watering can in the garden

I had a cat, dumpster born

A gift from my sister

Uncommonly large female

Feathery black, angular bone structure, eyes the harvest gold of a low slung moon

Big ears, long tail, long legs

Halloween arches

A bright shooting burst of white piercing the center of her breast

Named Jupiter (Juju) for the round, stormy lunar corona patch on her belly

Like that buffered glow through the mist

In short, she was fucking gorgeous

And when I rubbed myself down with olive oil in the steam

She’d lick rivulets off my legs and groom herself next to me

Otherwise our harsh climate would give her dandruff and exacerbate allergies

She died of cancer

And as piles of chips, cookies, candy and wrappers accumulated in my mother’s room

We came down with mice

Holy Fucking Shit

Shit, literally, everywhere

Acrid stench of piss, it’s a fucking miracle I didn’t catch hantavirus

In the cupboards, in the stove, in our beds and in our clothes

I will not use poison

And couldn’t call an exterminator

Couldn’t afford it even if it wouldn’t result in our domicile being condemned

The giant flying roaches were bad enough

Let’s call those Brown Fairies

Don’t ask how I obtained essential oils

Found a second use for my 90k SHU cayenne beyond soup, hot chocolate and coffee

Well my friend thrifted a tiny stained glass window on a whim

A candle holder portrait of two cats from some dead old lady’s hoard, said I had to have it

Maybe it would bring me luck

So I said fuck it I guess I’ll beseech the cat gods

Well I put a tealight in there and I shit you not

When I opened the door next morning

A cat marched right into my house, bold as you please, all business

Acted like she been living there her whole life

Prowled the entire perimeter inside and outside and set up watch every day

Small, compact yet lithe body, rugged voluminous fluff, dilute tortoiseshell heavy on the russet, extra long tail, blue-green hazel eyes

So fluffy she looked like a wizard

In short, she was fucking gorgeous

Not a cuddler, again, miss business

Not even that thieving ass holdout Tortilla Bastard survived

Imagine reaching for the good tortilla and it’s just a sliver facade full of dust and turds

A falcon snatched him right off the roof outside

I had the privilege to observe

Fuck them mice

.

Adhesions

Despite having grown up poor poor

His…sire was someone in the music industry or some such

And one thing led to another, man didn’t bother with a will, had the unhealthy proclivities you’d expect, and publicly acknowledged his son

Not quite Cinderello if you take my meaning

Point is, coming from him, I was deeply touched when he fully supported my pregnant best friend’s endeavor

To physically remove me from…

(Gestures)

That’s all us girls really want you know

Put everyone we love under a good roof where they belong

Set the table

She admitted as much as we caught up in her new lake house (marsh house?)

The original plan was get me there, ply me with food and treats, remind me that I was loved, and convince me there was no good reason to return

But then all three of my parents became disabled

My mother, now oxygen dependent, couldn’t take more than a handful of steps without needing a wheelchair

My father’s entire lower spine was replaced with metal

Which promptly caught a life threatening staph infection

Which led to three heart attacks

The protracted and humiliating battle for Disability Status

Mostly walker but wheelchair for sure at the airport

Men do not handle it well when they can no longer take care of their girls

Dad saw some crippled old woman doing everything and falling down while her likewise crippled husband sat on his ass

Him barking orders hissing and spitting in front of the whole parking lot

And vehemently swore he’d shoot himself first—

Don’t worry, as it happens

He fed, nursed, and befriended a raggedy one eyed bruiser of a Tom called Old Man Peach

Living in his garden, guarding three tiny females housed in his shed

Who each died giving birth to a single female kitten

And well, bottle feeding princesses is a familiar purpose, he’s a deft hand

A house isn’t home without a little ruckus

So now he is somewhat less…intense—

Point is, complications

Principles

She knew I’d never forgive myself

That and I’d have to leave my cat behind (which will never happen)

Her husband said it was as if sometime long ago my ancestors angered an Old God

That there’s some unspeakable evil where I’m from

Some kinda black hole that warps potential and twists growth

There’s Luck of the Irish, then there’s whatever the fuck I’ve got

I cracked some jokes

He recognized the mechanism

She remarked upon Hugo of all cats firmly rooted to my lap

A beleaguered long haired grey-and-white gentleman

Not unlike my Nemo had been

Looked like a too many seasoned ship’s captain

He’d been plastered to my hips nearly every second I sat down

So I just assumed he was their most affectionate

Well he was a rescue, surrendered

His former owners had kept him locked in a single room

And the day he got his very first taste of freedom quite by mad dash accident

Two dogs nearly ripped him completely in half

His abdomen had to be reconstructed, innards cleaned and rearranged

He barely survived

By all rights should have died

Should have been paralyzed

Of course I’d noted his oddly fibrous midsection

My hand was on it

They’d never seen him take to anyone so entirely

So fast

.

Biblical Proportions

During mandatory consultations my professor once asked

If I would move to New York City after graduation

Become an editor, get published, whatever etc.

I kept my face pleasantly blank (think Ed Sheeran), but hard pass

Zero interest, I wouldn’t move to NYC

Or any big city

Not for a million dollars every month and the whole world’s praise

I want acreage and a small footprint

To walk outside naked in the moonlight and be unseen

My nearest neighbors are toads, birds, bugs, bears, whoever critters and mostly trees

That’s the dream

Miss me with all that Peter Pan grasping high society

Status seeking social climbing creative accolades

Swiping, swiping, swiping away genuine connection

Whoops I cheated baby b-but this distance

My loneliness, my co-regulation, my recognition, my wegacy, my brand, such stress

Why should I make a decision when I can have all this

After all, there’s always more fish

Another click, another payment

Something shiny I flirt with

When the sea level rises, I say good riddance

You know the most attention I ever received as a child

Was a listless and dismissive “cool” or emoji thumbs up at the very best

But mostly screen static silence and no eye contact

And wouldn’t you know it, writing itself was my last and most sensitive trigger

Literally words on a page

So it hits helluva lot different when you print and clumsily bind a copy of your post traumatic growth spurt verse

Like you’re thirteen years old on your first period

And mail it to your best friend who recently courted death by childbirth

And she reads it in a hard won patch of peace in her nursing chair

Newborn daughter asleep at last

And she says it is the essence of your soul in text form

That she can feel you in the room, hear your voice in her ear

Raw, dark, necessary, not for the faint of heart

The urgent undercurrent of Treble throughout, your words chase and consume the reader

That you are not for everyone, and this is your greatest strength

The people who need you most will find their way

That this must be what doing drugs feels like

She feels drunk, she feels high

Wants to climb to the roof and shout into the night

She was so tired, and now she’s wide awake

That there’s no flattery, you leave no bullshit to sit behind

You came into this world like a reckoning

And now with your open wound of a book on display in her office

By nobody of nowhere who amounted to nothing

A piece of you will always be there

She will always have her friend

And I can keep going forever on all that

No further input required

You know how kids really only need the one person who believed in them the moment it truly counted

So I took a picture of my favorite poem

The reason I ever wrote in the first place

You know, for her girl, from a vintage childcraft encyclopedia

Since she can’t really show her much of my own work until she’s very much older

(After all, my favorite condiment is Smut)

A page featuring two sooty spook splat watercolor kittens tumbling over stone steps under a purple sky

Been coasting on spuffy kitten endorphins my entire adult life, in my heart a little locker shrine

Stickers, kisses, rocks and fairy lights

It reads:

Night by Lois Weakley McKay

My kitten walks on velvet feet

And makes no sound at all;

And in the doorway nightly sits

To watch the darkness fall.

I think he loves the lady, Night,

And feels akin to her

Whose footsteps are as still as his,

Whose touch as soft as fur.