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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