Feline Grace (words – 74, lines – 17)

I might have not believed
a cat could smile
before I knew yoiu
I certainly wouldn’t have believed
I would come to share
the intimate spaces of my life
with such a creature

I didn’t know my lap was empty
before you filled it
and my days
One cannot simply replace a friend like you
One can hardly say goodbye
so I will not
Your smile will live forever behind my eyes

Bio:
Tom {WordWulf} SternerHowe, a native son of Colorado, lives in Lafayette, Colorado with wife Karen, her two sons and his youngest son, Zedidiah. Family and riding his Harley Davidson fill up the hours left over from creative enterprises. He has been extensively published in independent literary magazines including Howling Dog Press/Omega, Skyline Literary Review and Flashquake. He is winner of the Marija Cerjak Award for Avant-Garde/Experimental Writing 2001, 2002 & 2003. His first novel, ‘Madman Chronicles: The Warrior’, is available at his website: http://pages.prodigy.net/sterner-howe. Music from the novel may be accessed at http://truefire.com/list.html?store=original_music&viewauthor=3554 or www.lulu.com/TomSternerHowe
***

PARTY IN 1607

there”s a party in 1607
reggie he checking it out
kicking back pipe in hand
there be reefer going around
20 scattered people gettin” drunk
and high wasted nights in the casba
reggie he talkin” to young pretty girl,
pretty girl she eyein” the tall native guy
reggie by window now,
couple cool joes shoot the shit
he speaking his best barbados accent,
argument in corner
blood on the floor,
it ain”t nothing he says,
ain”t nothing at all…

hip hop in background
reggie wishing for jazz
but the ladies they all around man,
they slick and whiskey young,
more arguments,
some laugh,
some feel the fear,
reggie collecting money for the drug parade
they huddle by the table,
they light the pipe like it”s a token to the gods,
reggie waves in a young thing of 19 or 20
she already livin” on pluto
among the clouds and the gastown memories,
glassy eyes she looks up,
reggie smiles,
it begins now…

another party in 1603
reggie there now
white boys from middle-class
slumming it for the thrill
reggie he bored
reggie he tired
white girls looking good
everybody flat and humorless
things too easy he thinkin”,
the whiskey comes out
then the grass and the coke
reggie getting along now
entire room in synch,
for awhile,
just awhile,
then the first argument,
it begins now…

we”re at my place,
1803,
few buddies sitting around
we got the whiskey and the grass
reggie talks to me continuously,
“man” he says “you”re place is an island in all this shit”,
“reggie, reggie” i say
“me thinkin”, me thinkin””
i got the sex-pistols on the ghetto
raunchy and anti-everything,
couple women by window
they loving the view,
i”m wondering about their legs,
their eyelashes,
the color of their underwear,
“pretty amazing view” she says,
i smile and introduce her to reggie,
it begins now…
***

LATE NIGHT ENDING

“where were you last night?” says laura from the washroom down the hall,
“at a party on langside” says mike
looking through fridge finds an O.V. hands shaking
he alright moonlight in the window,
moon high above central park everything shakes
under the neon cigarette lit bottle tipped forwards
laura comes out of the washroom down the hall
enters room in black underwear pierced nipples
wet hair trailing down her back,
hair jet-black and thick like the devil”s she smiles
mike puts his arm around her soft kisses
in the neon moonlight everything shakes….
***

Habeas Corpus

Years from now when I am gone
And you sit at the kitchen table
With people who never knew me
Show them this so they will know

That I was touched and slightly
Giddy with the silly art of poetry
That to me was harmony and
Melody floating everywhere

They should know too that with
Eyes and nose and mouth and ears
And every organ that ties us to the world
That I love you and it grew and multiplied

Like fission in the nuclei of cells and
Was carried in corpuscles speeding
Through capillaries toward lips and
Fingertips and other body parts

That celebrate a passing touch
***

At The Waldorf

At the Waldorf
Where desserts are done in art deco
And abstractions in chocolate
Twist in many shapes
Everything is golden

The lobby a cathedral
Large and brightly lit
At a table draped in white linen
Like an altar prepared
For solemn High Mass

I study the ceiling
Done in Greek revival
Where reliefs of nudes
In white plaster
Resemble marble

At the Waldorf
Where words are whispered
Like prayers of the devout
At an altar
Draped in white vestments

And in gilded murals
On Peacock Alley
Where I see a sugar-coated sunrise
Over the rundown landscape
Of the far eastside
***