The Black Cat

A Fairy Tale

In through the back door

with the southerly wind,

from the lush Autumn yard,

the black cat strode in.

Meanwhile, the bats

colonized the easternmost face

of the house, above

in the attic space.

Wrapped in magic,

the house was cocooned.

A metamorphosis transpiring

within every wall and every room.

Inside, in the dark,

the couple slept and sometimes cried,

but mostly smiled, with the black cat

at their side.

Until one day, the woman cut her golden hair.

Unknowingly, she broke the spell.

And the bats dispersed into the darkness of morning,

banished from the home where they used to happily dwell.

The wind stole in

as a crack scarred the cocoon,

and caught in a gust,

the black cat flew.

The couple gasped

and grasped for her,

even as the black cat sprouted

her own wings of fur.

Then slowly the sun rose,

dissolving the illusion —

lighting the emptiness

of the devastation.

And the woman with her golden hair

now graying in the sun,

Looks with anticipation to the west,

for the wind, again, to come.


~ M.


Cruel Flowers

Cruelly, the flowers
grace my vision. —
Their beauty fills my senses
and feeds my soul.
This fleeting, beautiful moment
that I cannot hold.
The expansion of my heart,
turns concave.
Towards the lives of those
I cannot save.
I breathe in deep
the sweetest air,
only to exhale into
the sudden darkness there.
Cruel flowers reaching
for the light of the Sun,
rooting downward towards
the less fortunate ones.
Bloom as they wilt,
in the breeze, free to sway.
I still long to gaze upon them,
while I may.

~ M.