Kit Willett


The Day Bed

Every now and then, they drag the mattress 
into the conservatory and listen to new takes 
on old standards. The memory foam suspends them 
in an in-between state, and the slight pitter-patter 
picks up and fills the room with white noise. 
After some time, rainbows find their way 
past the leaves of ferns and monstera, resting 
on the floor there. Two cats (both alike in dignity) sleep 
on separate chairs, and the world forgets to keep moving.
 


Broken

In another time, the dead of night is quiet. Your skin 
prickles with embarrassment. But a whispered voice—
your own—tells you it is not your fault. It is there, 
downstairs on that hideous shag carpeting. Vinyl 
walls reflect no sound—the world is suspended. 
Figures on the muted tv dance or race or swirl 
into one unending blur, unnoticed. It is not your fault. 
You are just a kid at this point; who could blame you 
now, as an adult. You gather your armies; you tear 
apart a family. They call you harsh and ancient names. 
But surely it is not malicious…surely. It is not your fault.

Kit Willett is an Auckland-based English teacher, poet, and executive editor of the New Zealand poetry journal Tarot. His poetry has recently been published in Mātātuhi Taranaki, Live Encounters Poetry and Writing, and This Twilight Menagerie.

More at tarotpoetry.nz/kit

 
 

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