Holy Terrors

Hello little gnomes drilling for oil amongst my vast wasteland of neck.

I feel you gnawing deep 
 But have
 Nothing
 Left                                                To offer.

Sticky black tar is all that remains.
It clings to me in lumps as you slide down my crooked spine.

Everything is gone.
Your shovels took my coal. Your hammers struck heavy blows.
There is no more beauty.

A shroud covers my eyes.
A dullness enters my mind.
You sit in your boats, propelling through the muck that was once my brain.
Your greedy hands have smudged it up.

Blast you and your dynamite, your massive numbers, your ‘Implementation’ plans.
Look at what you’ve done.
Look at who you’ve hurt.
Was it worth it?


Tschüss,
Marta Frieda Hart

Catty Mouse

As I clean our room one eve

I stumble across a letter sleeve

Although it is his, I cannot leave…

Inside this laid a peculiar motive

One that was particularly devoted

The letter told a story of a boy and girl

Who decide to give “free love” a whirl.

They would be together when close by

But when away, gave others a try

And as she writes this to my lad

With this proposal, she seems rather glad

Although the letter is charming, in it’s own right

I cannot help but feel it rather contrite

And try as I might….

The catty woman still fumes in me

Waiting to be unleashed and free

Upon the boy who I happen to see

I continue on the letter, curious of it’s end

The young lady suggests they follow the trend

Of free love and joy, like the girl and boy

I feel my shoulders shiver and my brows furrow

I burrow my frown deep in my face

For it simply is not my place to be upset

Yet, my eyes glance at the final words

“With love,” I gasp two words in thirds

I hear the rumble of his steps up the stairs

And in a final thought, I wonder if he cares

Still for her as she to him, and this

Brings my boiling blood to a brim

“Do you even care about me?”

I hiss at him, and clearly in his face

Is remarkable surprise, and although

I see sorrow deep in his eyes

I continue to glare as if

HE was unfair

“Of course I do.”

He mumbles in reply.

Yet the cat in me cries,

“You lie! You lie”

But I simply give him a frown

And push my eyes down

To the floor where we stand

Instead of his face or hands

Which come to my sides

then glide my cheek to his chest

And with this I must confess…

I am a mouse.

Who knows this girl and of her beauty

In body, mind, spirit and soul

And my own character is a hole

In this I feel hopeless and collapse

Into the arms of my guy

Into suffering and with a deep sigh

At my own fault…

For jealousy does not love

It makes me the prey, a victim of insecurity

It shows my lack of maturity

It makes me ugly, yet proud

Loud and yet unheard.

It bursts from me without cause

Vicious as claws, and tightening jaws

And yet in each spit of spite

I am a mouse, who with all my might

Attempts

 To feel

Needed

To feel

Loved

To feel

Safe

To feel

To feel

And when my lad kisses my head

I know there is nothing left to be said

That my catty nature is appeased

And my little mouse is pleased

That I am wanted, cared for a more

I know this must be true to the very core

Of my boy who gives me a grin

Genuine and sweet

And greets me with a kiss on my cheek

I blush and return the smile

I think I will stay with him for a while.

Best,

Anna Belle Lee