Up Three Flights (Day 425)

Sandals landing on wooden 

steps like flat palms 

on drums  she runs up three 

flights and knocks back

humid air  thick 

with the scent 

of undergrowth  sweet 

and dark as late-summer 

midnight sweat on clean 

sheets  thinly sliced 

coral from a corner streetlight 

falling through bamboo shades 

across the bed  and his head 

less peaceful  less quiet 

than she knew  on the pillow 

for now anyway  a place to rest 

her mind when the present 

feels too sharp  because 

understanding is worth 

the effort  but you don’t always 

have to do it in the dark

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Edited image found on Pexels

No Reason (Day 341)

When she feels unnecessary,

no reason for the oatmeal 

steaming in her bowl at breakfast, 

each plump blueberry, reclining 

in the gore of its own purple juices 

reminding her of the uselessness 

she senses under the thick cover 

of her life, the way her cat senses 

her feet beneath the quilts when

she climbs into bed, pouncing 

exactly where her unmoving toes 

are hidden, his sharp claws 

drawing tiny specks of blood that 

dry and darken on her pale skin. 

She knows it’s silly, allowing the cat 

to continue his nightly, slightly 

sadistic ritual, but when bedtime 

arrives, she does not chide him, 

because the game brings him joy, 

and this she feels, without actually 

thinking the words, makes her 

necessary, gives her reason enough 

to set her alarm for the next morning.

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay