Tag: surreal poetry
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16 June: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Unwritten Rules – Vol. II 1. When the kettle screams,listen for what else it might be saying—a hymn, a warning,or the crow’s third attemptat opera. 2.Let the cat claim your lapeven when you need to rise.Some debts are paid in purrs,some in patience,and some in the tiny victoriesof a well-timed “oh, fine.”…
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13.06: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Ghost of Sugar her fingers trace letters into words.the ai replies— quilts a reply into her skin. the old woman listens,her pockets full of thymeand one stubborn peppermint. “you remind me,” she says,“of my first love—all hum and no heartbeat.” the old woman slides a scone—real, butter-heavy, still warm—across the…
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10.06: The Old Woman With No Cat
Dead Woman Boils the Kettle While Contemplating Life’s Divine Comedy the old woman’s teasteeps like a minor miracle—hot water turning leavesinto prophecy. she adds honey,stolen from the gods’ own breakfast,stirs counterclockwiseto spite the universe’s spin. the neighbour’s cat(now self-appointed familiar)drapes itself over the drainboard,watching her with the smugnessof a creature who’s read all the sacred…
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5 June: The Old Woman With No Cat
Things the Old Woman Will Tell Her Granddaughter(a mid-flight manifesto scribbled on a napkin over the Atlantic) note from 39,000 feet:if you’re reading this, my girl—the kittens definitely needan unwritten rule:something about how to napwhile technicallystill causing trouble.(you’ll know the words.i’ll bring the chocolate.) and when the old woman finally lands in America,she kisses the…
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04.06: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Crow’s Gift The old woman holds the crow’s going-awaygift in her hand.It’s joy. It’s love in her hands,and she tucks it into her apron pocket—right between: a wilted dandelion (for wishes),three pocket-lint stars (collected accidentally),the ghost of a peppermint (still vaguely sticky). “Thank you, my little light,” she hums,though the…
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3 June: The Old Woman With No Cat
Moonlight Over the Attic of the World the old woman sets a cup of chamomileby the window for the wandering ghosts.the cat, in a rare moment of charity,does not knock it over. the crow tucks one last stolen commainto its nest of scraps.the robin—bless its resurrected heart—snores softly in the hatbox,dreaming of worms and second…
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2.06: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Mistakes Obsession for Heaven midnight’s third coffee—steam curling like a squirrel’s tailbetween urgentand ahhh. the soft click. click. of her pen,tasting a new adjectiveon the back of her tongue. and then—that momentthe poem’s face turns. a silence like breathheld just a beat too long—the cat flinches.the wind remembers a door left open.…
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1 June: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Applies for a Passport The old woman stands at the post office counter,boots still muddy from the garden,the neighbour’s cat draped across her shoulderslike a disgruntled scarf. The clerk eyes the crow perched on her wrist,the robin pecking at her seed-pocket,and the suspiciously animate twist of ivycoiled around her walking stick. CLERK:…
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31 May: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman’s Unwritten Rules let the crow steal.it’s not theft if it wants to be lost.(this applies to buttons,grief, and the last biscuit.) feed the robin sunlight.if it sings, you owe it nothing.if it doesn’t,you still owe it nothing.that’s the trick of love. when the neighbour’s cat knocks over the milk,blame the wind.the wind…
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30 May: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Adopts a Shoplifting Seagull(or legal ambiguities in avian acquisition) the seagull crash-landson the old woman’s porch,a half-eaten baguette clamped in its beak,and a co-op receipt trailing from one foot. “it’s not stealing,” explains the crow,“it’s wealth redistribution.” the cat (still not hers, but always judgey)flicks a biscuit crumb at the bird:“that’s a…
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