Miscellaneous


 
A bent pin,
rainbow thread,
burnt umber:
stitching today.

A fly bothering me.
Cleaning my whiskers.
Remembering that men can be kind.

by Rebecca L. Atherton


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Collateral Damage

 

Clouds hug the buildings above her head, oppressive in their proximity. Smoke permeates the air from a shop that has caught fire across the street.

Yesterday it rained hard enough for branches to fall from the trees and washing that had dried to become wet.

Today the sun is out and even though it hasn’t yet escaped the clouds, there is the promise of heat.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Inclement Weather Front

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This week, it’s been unseasonably cold.

In the mornings, the water is frozen,
the washing machine fails to function
and the flat doesn’t heat up.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Afoot


There is a green plaster on my balcony
that wasn’t there before.

And last night there was a freak hailstorm
that earlier wasn’t predicted.

In my neighbourhood,
strange things are happening.

by Rebecca L. Atherton
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Departure

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To take the edge off,
I turn on the heat
and plant candles throughout the house.

The world recedes…
Behind veiled windows,
it becomes night.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Waves against rock


 
All day my manicure has fallen off.
It is black.
I take this as a sign:

another shadow has lifted,
a beautiful sunset at the end of a day
of waves against rock.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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November 8, 7pm.


 
Wrapped in coats and scarves,
pensioners stretch their limbs beneath a leaden sky,
while streetlamps struggle to permeate
the darkness with their light.

In America, people cast their vote
in the general election
and I wake to a world gone mad.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Anticipating greatness


 
Tonight, it’s a full moon.
Tomorrow, it’s going to be 28 degrees.

Like a child on Christmas Eve,
I am excited.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Mixed Emotions

image
 
Yesterday it was sunny
and I basked like a cat.

Today I am listening to the rain come down
while inside different parts of me cry.

by Rebecca L. Atherton

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Discontent


 
The sky is weeping and I am sad
but the trees are happy to see rain.

Inside the house, mosquitos gather around the ceiling light
and later they will torment me again.

by Rebecca L. Atherton
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