Tag: surreal poetry
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13 May: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Considers Aphids and the Meaning of Lunch the lupins tremble under their tiny, hungry gods—green stems bowing like philosopherswho’ve just realisedthey’re also on the menu. “to be eaten,” the old woman muses,“is just another way of being useful.” the cat (still not hers, never hers)flicks an ear:“spoken like someonewho’s never been licked.”…
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11.05 The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Wayward Compass the compass hums in her hand—not north,not south,just toward. its needlequivers like a dowser’s rod. “useless,” snorts the cat,“unless toward means tuna.”the robin, nostalgic for linearity, chirps: “back in my day,we had four whole directions—” “shush,” smiles the old woman,planting the compass in the gardento see what grows.…
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10.06 The Old Woman With No Cat
Dead Woman and the Cat’s Morning Doctrine the cat—still not hers, never hers—strikes across the kitchen counterlike anarchy, knocking over the salt shaker,the sugar bowl,and the old woman’s last clean spoon. the old woman, sipping coffeedark as a black hole’s résumé,watches the cat’s carnage. “you’re technically a natural disaster.”the cat pauses, and stares. “and you’re…
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09.5: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Declares the Milk is Still Cold she presses the glass bottle to her cheek—a trial by touch, a verdict rendered:“still cold.” the cat (still not hers, but always judging)flicks its tail like a metronome set to skepticism:“prove it.” so she does: exhibit a:the condensation’s slow slide,thick as honey. exhibit b:the fridge light’s…
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07.05: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Appendix C: Loopholes as love language the old woman underlines:“by consuming this product, you agreeto everything found inspite, loopholes, andthe neighbour’s unsecured wifi.” the cat (still not hers, legally speaking)paws at clause 4.2: liability for falling objects—“define object,” it scoffs,knocking over a vase.“define falling.” the crow, ever the contract killer,drops black’s…
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03.05: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and a Rebellion of Tenderness the old woman with no cathas a pocket full of seeds. she plants themin the cracks between bricks,in every unread newspaper,in every unanswered letter. she’ll let them split the sidewalks,she tells the crow. she knows how magic works—it’s just like a weedthat someone decides to love. it…
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01.05: Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman Adopts a Mould Culture (For Research, Obviously) The petri dish gleams on the windowsill—a swirling nebula of sentient blue-green,thriving on neglectand last Tuesday’s lasagna sins. The cat, honorary Head of Microbial Astronomy,presses its nose to the glass:“Fascinating. It has your eyes.”The old woman nods.“And your manners.” The crow, MSc (Disaster Studies &…
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29.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Milk’s Mortality Crisis the cat paces before the fridgelike a wee, furry coroner,one paw pressed to the milk bottle’s pulse. “it’s clinging to life,” purrs the cat.“one more dawn, maybe two.”the old woman peers at the use-by date—smudged, dubious,possibly written in invisible ink. “it’s fine,” she declares.“time is a construct.also,…
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28.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and Aleph in the Garden My mother’s name is Aleph—a swallowed alphabet,the dirt’s own first vowel. The robin cocks its head.“Explain the worm, then.” The old woman with no catsinks her spade again—bites clay, bites air, bites centuries.“Aleph,” she mutters,“is the shape a worm writes—a letter no god can read.” The robin…
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27.04: The Old Woman With No Cat
The Old Woman and the Quantum Lawn Gnome The gnome both is and isn’t—Schrödinger’s kitsch, grinning sideways through time,one foot tangled in the chives,one foot hovering in the seventh dimension,tracking mud across both. The old woman squints, pokes it with a rake:“You’re technically trespassing.” The gnome winks.(Or doesn’t. Or winks in thirteen simultaneous realities.) Bells…
It's Still Life 