FEEDING
Swifts and swallows dive
as jagged bats bolt into twilight's vapors.
We pour wine over wounds, ignoring mosquitoes—
overfed and oversexed in our orbits.
A swollen spider knits twin razor legs
tightening the hole in her web and stomach.
We watch for owl's glint above the black grass sea,
but nothing's worth stirring for.
As stars wink into sky, I consider climbing
up, out, and away, for a taste before plummeting.
Swifts and swallows dive
as jagged bats bolt into twilight's vapors.
We pour wine over wounds, ignoring mosquitoes—
overfed and oversexed in our orbits.
A swollen spider knits twin razor legs
tightening the hole in her web and stomach.
We watch for owl's glint above the black grass sea,
but nothing's worth stirring for.
As stars wink into sky, I consider climbing
up, out, and away, for a taste before plummeting.
—Photo Courtesy of Eileen Jackson
AQUARIUM
It's not safe to touch
the sharks in the petting
pool until I pretend one
bit me and then she wants
in on the action. But she
won't believe me about
male seahorses because I
said papa crabs sing to
their babies and that's not
true. We wait till everyone
leaves and touch the floor
by the tank where the puffer
fish sprayed and it's still wet
with magic. Then we try to
spot the invisible (tortoise)
who moves too slow to be
captured by eight-year-old
eyes. Axolotls are the cutest.
I tell her about regrowing
limbs but spare her tales of
scientific experiments.
____________________
FUR BABIES
“Do they always watch?” I ask as we have sex
on a mattress near her cats.
They do, and they also watch
in the bathroom, where I shower.
She cooks meat in the kitchen
even though she's a vegetarian.
We all smell it, but the cats just sit
on the bathmat, watching.
I use her towel and her hairbrush,
right in front of them. Her deodorant, too.
“I hate people,” she says
over bread and jam. And I believe her.
Those cats on the floor
just chomp and stare.
A PARADE AND A MAGIC TRICK
“Look at me,”
she gargles
trotting in, all
feathers, pupils, and pride.
“My little huntress,”
I call as
she shakes
her prize.
Crunching,
its skull
in her skull,
in my skull.
And it's gone, except
red dots and,
a tiny bouquet
of piñon and down.
“Look at me,”
she gargles
trotting in, all
feathers, pupils, and pride.
“My little huntress,”
I call as
she shakes
her prize.
Crunching,
its skull
in her skull,
in my skull.
And it's gone, except
red dots and,
a tiny bouquet
of piñon and down.
TRYING
He chirps and growls around a mouthful of fur
you might call a hamster, nipped at the neck,
like a kitten, until I cradle it in both hands.
I thank the cat.
He doesn't pick up the ferret, an albino with pink
berries for eyes, that breaks out and tears
a ferret-sized hole in the hamster cage.
I mourn the hamster.
He never meets the special ed boy who got rid of
the pet that used to tickle his shoulders, who asks
“Hey, how's Hammy?” every day.
I flash the same old picture.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
—Nicholas De Marino
(hoop snake)
__________________
Newcomer Nicholas De Marino is a neurodivergent writer of fiction, non-fiction, not fiction, un-fiction, and semi-fiction. He founded 5enses, published the first six years, and is a columnist at foofaraw. He has several writing credits, degrees, and accolades that have nothing to do with cats. Read more at nicholasdemarino.com/. Welcome to the Kitchen, Nicholas, and don’t be a stranger!
___________________
—Medusa
He chirps and growls around a mouthful of fur
you might call a hamster, nipped at the neck,
like a kitten, until I cradle it in both hands.
I thank the cat.
He doesn't pick up the ferret, an albino with pink
berries for eyes, that breaks out and tears
a ferret-sized hole in the hamster cage.
I mourn the hamster.
He never meets the special ed boy who got rid of
the pet that used to tickle his shoulders, who asks
“Hey, how's Hammy?” every day.
I flash the same old picture.
___________________
Today’s LittleNip:
—Nicholas De Marino
(hoop snake)
jaws neck hips
head tail back head tail back
neck hips hips jaws jaws neck
back tail head
__________________
Newcomer Nicholas De Marino is a neurodivergent writer of fiction, non-fiction, not fiction, un-fiction, and semi-fiction. He founded 5enses, published the first six years, and is a columnist at foofaraw. He has several writing credits, degrees, and accolades that have nothing to do with cats. Read more at nicholasdemarino.com/. Welcome to the Kitchen, Nicholas, and don’t be a stranger!
___________________
—Medusa
.jpg)
Nicholas De Marino
For future poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page—
and keep an eye on this link and on
the daily Kitchen for happenings
that might pop up
—or get changed!—
during the week.
Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.
Poets’ bios appear on their first MK visit.
To find previous posts, type the name
of the poet (or poem) into the little
beige box at the top left-hand side
of this column. See also
Medusa’s Rapsheet at the bottom
of the blue column on the right
side of this column to find
any date you want.
Miss a post?
You can find our most recent ones by
scrolling down under this daily one.
Or there's an "Older Posts" button
at the bottom of this column.
(Please excuse typos in older posts!
Blogspot has been through a lot of
incarnations in 20 years!)
Would you like to be a SnakePal?
Guidelines are at the top of this page
at the Placating the Gorgon link;
send poetry and/or photos and artwork
to kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!
