CatScratches

Untitled

I drink day old coffee

I stay up too late

I sleep in my makeup

I burn on occasion

I say too much  

I just can’t wait

Except when I can

And that’s always too long

Fighting for happiness

I wouldn’t say I have panic attacks
So much as I have bouts with panic
Silent, violent scraps with anxiety
The melee in my head happens quick
And so far I always win
Oh he tries to box me in
Rations and irrational fears
Pressure from peers
Looming smears
A bloody wreck he’d have me
But only if I let him
And so far I always win

You've Come Home

A Hitchcock of ravens in the silver oak
My totem of birds
Flocks
Hawk swooping in
Swallows 
Baby Bunny
Burrows in the shrubbery
Ground hog holes
Fireflies like golden snowflakes
What’s left of a Japanese Maple sprouting
Rice-paddy-hat-wearing fungi
A Forsythia bush waves from across the street
It seems I’m right where I should be
I can even see Cassiopeia from my stoop

Back in the saddle...

and it only took a year and forty-five days. Whooda thunk my beautiful perfectly perfect baby girl  (she kinda looks like she does in the sonogram below right?!)

could've sucked away all my creative energy for the more than the first year of her life?  Okay so of course she did.  But it's all coming back. 

It's like going number two.  It comes rushing in whether you like it or not and sometimes it takes a while Sometimes it happens so fast you're not sure it did happen.  Sometimes it's cathartic.  Sometimes it's painful.  But for now...it keeps on coming. 

I've written three new poems.  For each of those, I've lost a dozen to my daily commute, Bumble, 7 consecutive loads of laundry, my career, my libido...my life.  It's also been the best year and forty-five days...of my life.