All Those Beautiful Places (Day 424)

I was there when 

that small warm bundle 

called life dangled limply 

in your arms a load of laundry 

bound for the line or a chilly 

expression of reticence on 

a face once generous 

as grandma’s whipped-cream 

fudge and fresh-from-the-garden 

berries served sunwarm with 

our breakfast every morning 

the artist doesn’t tell she shows
and deserves a snap of the fingers 
for all those beautiful places 

where magically even when 

there is no peace

there is still love

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Pixabay

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